Teach me ABC
by ScarLovesGreys
Summary: When John returns from teaching abroad in Afghanistan he is in desperate need for a job, but isn't able to find one. He runs into Mike Stamford who helps him to get a part-time job at Bartholomew's State School, but his partner is anything but ordinary. Will John get through his first year at his new school with this peculiar teacher as his colleague?
1. Amazing

**Amazing**

_adjective_

causing great surprise or wonder; astonishing.

* * *

The line of the local coffee bar was the longest around 8:30 in the morning. John knew that. And normally he wouldn't dare to go stand in that line, but today he just needed a decent cup of coffee.

He looked at his watch and sighed. If the girl behind the bar didn't hurry, he would be late for his application. Not that he was confident about it. He had six applications last summer and was rejected all six times. He could handle a seventh, but at least this time he had had a decent cup of coffee instead of the dirty coffee they served at most of the schools.  
He leaned a little to the side and looked over the shoulders of the people in front of him. The girl behind the bar had as much trouble with this morning as he did and the other line wasn't going much faster.  
People started to get impatient and looked up the line irritated to see if it couldn't go a little faster. They had to hurry for work, for school or for other important activities. John had already half accepted that he would be late for his application when he suddenly heard his name.

"John?"

John looked around but didn't recognize anyone. He looked over his shoulder, but there was no one he knew behind him.

"John Watson?"

Then John saw the man in the other line. He was his age, brown hair, a bit chubby, wearing little, round glasses. He smiled at him and waved, But John didn't recognize him.

The man was still smiling. "Stamford! Mike Stamford, we were at St. Mary's together."

"Yes! Sorry, hello," John stepped out of the line and extended his hand to greet Mike.

Mike shook John's hand in return. "Yeah I know, I got fat. I heard you were abroad somewhere, teaching in a war zone and got shot? What happened? "

John looked up at him. "I got shot." He didn't mean to be so short with Mike, but he couldn't help it.

Mike looked at him for a moment, still with the same smile on his face. "Say, I won't have to work until later. What kind of coffee do you want? My treat."

John looked at his watch. He would certainly be late for his application. Well, maybe he shouldn't go at all then. "Black, one sugar," he answered and went to sit at a table.

After a couple of minutes, Mike joined him with two large cups of coffee. John took a large sip. "Are you still teaching, then?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah, state school, year 6. New schoolyear starts in two weeks. What about you? Staying in town, getting yourself sorted?"

"Well, need to find a job first. Can't afford London on just my savings."

Mike frowned a little. "They haven't hired you already? They are crazy not to, you were top of your class!"

John just shrugged in answer and took another sip of his coffee. He watched how Mike grabbed his phone out of his pocket and started to text. "You know," he started, not looking up from his phone. "There is a last minute opening at our school. Part-time, year 4. You would be perfect. I texted the principal to see If you can come by today.

"Part-time? Who would want me as a partner?"

Mike chuckled a little in answer and John looked up curious. "What?"

"You are the second person to say that to me today," Mike grinned.

"Who's the first?"

"Your future colleague."

* * *

A couple of hours later, John arrived at Bartholomew's State School. He had read up on the school a little bit. It wasn't a big primary school and it wasn't one of the top state schools in London. They weren't specialized in a specific kind of education and didn't provide much extra curriculum activities. They absolutely didn't stood out against other schools. Just a normal state school, nothing more, nothing less. If John wasn't in desperate need of a job, he wouldn't even consider applying here. But then again, he was desperate.

John was surprised to see that the gate was open. He walked across the school yard and entered the building through the main entry.

"Can I help you?" a dark woman with big, curly hair asked right away when she saw John entering.

"Ah uhm… yes," John stammered. He was surprised to see that there was someone sitting behind the reception desk. "I have an appointment for a job interview?"

"You are here for the job in year 4?" John heard the surprise in her voice.

"I believe so, yes."

The woman snorted. "Principal Lestrade is expecting you. His office is at the end of the hallway to your left."

"Thank you," John answered and walked away.

"Good luck with the freak!" the woman called after him. John stopped and looked back at her, but her attention was already back on her computer screen. Freak? What? He decided to let it pass.

Once arrived at the door of the principal's office, John took a brief moment to prepare himself. He checked the collar of his shirt, stood up straight, braced himself and knocked on the door. He heard a "come in" on the other side and entered.

The principal stood up from his desk immediately and held out his hand. "You must be John Watson," the principal started with a friendly smile on his face. "Mike couldn't stop talking about you when came by an hour ago."

John shook the hand he was offered. "In that case, I would believe only half of it."

The principal grinned. "I'm sure that's not true. I'm Greg Lestrade. Have a seat, John."

John sat down in the chair. "Thank you for having me on short notice, sir," he started.

Principal Lestrade waved with his hand in a dismissive way. "Please call me Greg. And the pleasure is mine, John. I was started to worry that we wouldn't find someone for our year 4 students but from what I heard, you are perfect for the job. Did you bring your resume?"

John bent over to his briefcase on the floor, took out his resume and handed it to the principal who took it and flipped through it without saying anything.

After a moment, principal Lestrade raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You even have a license to teach physical education? That's great!"

John didn't knew how to respond to that, so he decided it was best to keep quiet. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but it seemed to go rather well. Better than the last couple of interviews, at least.

At last, principal Lestrade looked up from John's resume. "I would love to have you on board, John. If you want, I can offer you a two-day job in our new year 4 class and one and a half day teaching physical education to our 4th, 5thand 6thyears."

John looked at the man with amazement. "That would be great, sir!" The principal raised one eyebrow at him and he corrected himself right away. "Sorry, I mean Greg," he mumbled.

Principal Lestrade gave him a smile. "I think your partner is somewhere around the school. If you want, I can ask Mike to give you a tour and to introduce him to you. I would do it myself, but I have a meeting in 10 minutes. Let's meet again on Thursday so we can discuss the details and I'll ask our receptionist Sally to sort out the paperwork so you can read it at home, okay?"

"Yes of course, no problem."

Principal Lestrade stood up from his chair and held out his hand again, waiting for John follow and shook his hand. "Now, Let's find Mike."

* * *

Mike had been over the moon to hear that John was hired as his new colleague. He was already going on about the upcoming schoolyear and the fun they were going to have being able to work together during the tour around the school. John noticed he avoided one particular subject: his partner. Strange, John had thought.  
When they ended their walk around the building, they stopped a classroom with a closed door. "This," Mike started with a goofy grin on his face. "Will be your office, your workplace and your playground for the upcoming schoolyear. Welcome." John chukled and Mike opened the door to the classroom.

There was a tall, slender, dark haired man sitting behind the desk. When Mike and John entered, the man gave them a sideways glance briefly before returning his attention to the notes in front of him.

John looked around. "Bit different from my day," he said turning on his heels to take in the whole classroom.

"You have no idea."

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? I left mine in my coat," the figure behind the desk suddenly asked casually. John's attention was immediately drawn to the man's low voice.

"Why do you need my phone?"

"I need to text."

John heard Mike sigh a little while he was grasping in his pockets. "Sorry, left mine in my classroom."

"Here," John started while he took his phone from his pocket without hesitation. "Use mine."

The head of the figure behind the desk snapped up and eyed him with interest. John walked towards the man and reached him his phone.

"Oh, thank you," the man said with brief hesitation and stood up from his desk.

Mike looked from the man to John and pointed in the direction of John. "That's an old friend of mine, John Watson." But the man ignored Mike and took the phone from John and started texting.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

It took John a moment to realize what the man had said. He looked at Mike to see if he had heard it right, but Mike just grinned at him, his eyebrows raised. "Sorry?"

The man looked up the phone. "Witch was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?"

John eyed at him for a long moment, failing to answer. Then, he looked at Mike again but he didn't seem to want to comment. "Afghanistan," John answered finally. "Sorry, how did you…"

But he was cut off by someone entering the door. A young woman with hazel brown hair tied in a ponytail entered with two cups of coffee.

"Ah Molly, coffee. Thank you," the man said and gave John his phone back. He then looked up at her. "What happened to your lipstick?"

The woman looked down and smiled shyly. "It wasn't working for me."

"Really? I thought It was a big improvement. Your mouth's to small now." The man waved his hand dismissively and walked back to the desk. The woman just mumbled something and turned around to walk away. John watched her go. He could feel the embarrassment radiating from her and felt a little sorry for her.

"How do you feel about co-operative teaching?"

John's head snapped back at the man's direction. It took him a second to register he was talking to him again. He furrowed his brow and looked at Mike suspiciously, who was ignoring John completely by now. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I believe in co-operative teaching and I am a perfectionist who makes his own lessons as often as possible. Would that bother you? Potential partners should know the worst about each other." The man gave John a fake smile.

John looked in the direction of Mike again. "Oh, you told him about me?"

Mike shook his head. "Not a word."

"Then who said anything about partners?"

The man just shrugged. "I only work part-time and Mike here is far too eager to introduce me to you, an old friend who previously worked in Afghanistan. That's no difficult leap." The man started to gather some things and put them in his briefcase.

John started to get curious now. "How did you know about Afghanistan?"

But the man ignored the question. "I got started on first weeks' schedule. Together we can work out the rest. Meet me tomorrow at 2 o'clock. Sorry, got to dash, I think I left violin case in the music room." The man started to walk towards the door.

"Is that it?" John called after him. The man turned around impatient.

"Is that what?"

"We've only just met, and we're going to prepare the upcoming year tomorrow?"

The man was silent for a second and glanced at Mike. "Problem?" he then asked.

John smiled briefly and looked also looked Mike, who was just staring at the two. "We don't know a thing about each other, I don't know your background. I don't even know your name."

The man looked at John defiantly. "I know you've been teaching abroad and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. You've got a brother worried about him, but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him, possible because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. I know you've got a license to teach physical education but you are insecure about it because of your shoulder, your left if I'm not mistaken. That's enough to go on with, don't you think?" The man walked out of the classroom but looked back at John halfway through the door. "The name is Sherlock Holmes, I'll see you tomorrow." He gave John a small wink and greeted Mike. "Afternoon."

With that, the man just walked away, leaving John and Mike alone in the classroom. John watched the man and only when the door fell into the lock with a click he looked at Mike, who was grinning widely.

"Yeah, he's always like that. Does it with the kids, too."

John just stood there, frozen in his place. A look of surprise covered his face. "Amazing."


	2. Boundaries

_A/N: I'm not familiar with the English school system, so while I try to look up as much as possible, there will be influences from the Dutch school system as well (as I am a dutchie :) ) __As always, I love to hear from you!_

**Boundaries**

Noun.

the limit of what someone considers to be acceptable behavior.

* * *

The next day, John arrived early at Bartholomew's State School feeling excited. For the first time in months, there had been a reason to get up in the morning so when he got up, he had a lot of energy. He had run six miles, gave himself a proper shave and had cleaned his apartment and still managed to be ready to go to his new job an hour early. He was just so eager to start his new job.  
But as John walked across the schoolyard, something else crept up too. He started to feel a little anxious. Not because of the job itself, he knew he was a good teacher, but because of his new partner. When he met Sherlock yesterday, he couldn't help but be impressed by the young man. But when he met some other new colleagues and told them that he was the new teacher of year 4, they all gave him a look and no one said anything about his new partner. This made John wonder.

When he entered through the front doors of the school, John was greeted by a new face. An older looking woman sat at the reception desk. When she saw John entering the building, she stood up immediately. "You must be our newest addition!" she said enthusiastically, holding out her hand through the window.

John shook her hand. "I think I am. John Watson."

The woman gave John a large, warm smile. "I'm Mrs. Hudson. It's so nice to meet you, dear. I was so happy when I heard we finally found someone who's up for the job. I was starting to fear that Sherlock would end up teaching that class alone."

John smiled back at the woman. "I'm sure he would be capable."

Mrs. Hudson chuckled a bit. "He sure would be, but I'd hate to see him get overworked. He's an excellent teacher and such a good man."

John frowned a little. "Is that so?" he wondered.

"have you've been talking to some of your new colleagues, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked, still smiling at John. "He can be difficult to work with for sure. He can be arrogant and very self-centered. He doesn't get along with parents and most of his colleagues find him intimidating. But the children absolutely adore him and once you'll get to know him, he's worth the gold."

"I just don't know what to think of him," John sighed.

"My advice? Don't think anything. Go in blank and I'm sure you will be surprised by him." Mrs. Hudson said with a warm tone in her voice that made John feel a little more reassured about his partner.

"Thank you," John muttered.

"No problem, dear." Mrs. Hudson looked away from John and took a pile of papers from her desk. She held out the papers through the window. "Mr. Lestrade asked me to hand you these. It's your contract. You can read and sign it at home and give it back to him when you have your next appointment."

John nodded and reached out to take the papers, but Mrs. Hudson held on to them. He looked at her questioningly and saw a slight twinkle in her eyes. "You two are going to be such a great couple, I'm sure of it." she gave John a small smile and let go of the papers. "Now off you go, don't let the man waiting."

John put his contract into his briefcase, said goodbye to Mrs. Hudson and walked away from the reception desk. As he walked down the corridors to his new classroom, he couldn't help but wonder what she had meant.

When he neared the classroom where he had met Sherlock the day before, John saw him standing against the wall with two mugs in one of his hands. Sherlock looked at his watch and smiled a little. "I appreciate you being on time. Most of our colleagues seem to be able to teach their students to watch the clock, but seem to have difficulty with it themselves."

"Yeah well, I hate being late," John answered and took the offered cup of coffee from Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock waved at the door. "Shall we?"

When they entered the classroom, John looked around in astonishment. It was a mess. A proper mess. The tables and chairs were piled up against the wall and in the middle of the floor were schoolbooks, notebooks, files and stacks of papers.

"Let's get to work as soon as we've cleaned up a…" John started, but Sherlock started to speak as well.

"I already started to work on… oh." Sherlock closed his mouth and looked at John, a little embarrassed. He swiftly turned around and started to order some books and files. He cleared his throat. "Obviously I can, uhm… straighten things up a bit."

John looked around again and smiled a little. He walked towards the middle and sat down between the books and papers. "It's okay. I just didn't think you'd like to work like this."

Sherlock looked down at John and hesitated for a moment. Then, he also sat down opposite John, feeling a little relieved. "Thank you," he said. The corners of his mouth curled up a little. "What would you like to do first?"

"Let's have a look at which subject we teach when, and make an overview and work from there?" John suggested.

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Time flew by. In no time they had made an overview which they could use as a basis and had agreed on a class layout to try in the first period. John had proposed a system that he knew from his education where students and teachers could indicate how things went at school that day, something that had impressed Sherlock.  
They were being watched. John noticed it when another colleague walked by and glanced inside. Several colleagues had walked past their classroom. A few even stopped to look through the window. Some looks were purely out of curiosity, but most of the looks John saw were between skeptical and envious. He was sure that Sherlock had also noticed them, but that he consciously refused to say anything.  
He glanced at the man on the floor and John wondered why his colleagues thought that Sherlock was difficult to work with. Sure, he had his quirks, but who didn't? it wasn't like he wasn't listening to what John had to say or that he was determined to have it his way. In fact, John actually started to like working with him.  
When Sherlock looked up from his book, their eyes met. John instantly stopped thinking and he could do nothing else but stare into Sherlock's eyes.

After a long moment, John cleared his throat and looked away. "It's past lunchtime already," he said, trying to sound casual. He looked at his watch and stood up. "Do you want to go to the teachers' room and eat something?"

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "I'm good. But if you want to take a break and get to know the vultures, by all means."

"Vultures?"

"Our colleagues, John. Obviously."

John chuckled a little. "And here I am, wondering why everyone is implying you're difficult to work with."

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows but didn't reply. His attention went back to the book in front of him. After a moment, he spoke again, his tone more cautious. "If you want to eat lunch with them, that's fine."

John heard the slight disappointment in Sherlock's voice. He walked to his briefcase and took out a lunch bag. He walked back and sat down on the floor again. When Sherlock looked at him, he shrugged. "I'm good. Meant to ask you something anyway," he said and took a bite of one of his sandwiches.

"And what's that?"

"How did you know?"

Sherlock smirked a little. "Know what?"

"You know what I mean," John countered.

"I didn't know, I saw," Sherlock started. "You referred to this classroom as a place you used to be familiar with. But you haven't worked in one for quite a while. Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists: you've been abroad but not sunbathing. You used your left hand to give me your phone but wears it in your right pocket, so you prefer not to use your arm for large movements. You don't see a physical therapist for it anymore, they would say that you need to use the arm as much as possible. So it's probably partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were probably traumatic. Wounded in action, suntan, an old teacher: Afghanistan or Iraq."

John's eyes grew big. "Wow," he breathed.

Sherlock didn't stop, he was on a roll now and enjoying this far too much. "Then there's your brother. Your phone is expensive, email enabled, mp3 player. But you were looking for a job, you wouldn't waste your money on this. It's a gift, then. Scratches, not one but many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting opposite me wouldn't treat a luxury item like this. So it's had a previous owner. The next bit's easy, you know it already."

"The engraving?"

Sherlock beamed at him. "Harry Watson. Clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. It could be a cousin, but brother is more likely. Now, who's Clara? Three kisses sais a romantic attachment. The expensive phone says wife, not a girlfriend. Must've given it to him recently; this model's only six months old. If she'd left him, he would've kept it. People do, sentiment. But no, he wanted to get rid of it, he left her. He gave the phone to you, that says he wants you to stay in touch. But you were unemployed and unable to pay for your own phone, and you're not going to your brother for help? That says you have problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you don't like his drinking."

John looked at Sherlock in disbelief. "How could you possibly know about the drinking?"

"Shot in the dark," sherlock smiled. "Good one, though. Power connection: tiny little scuff marks around the edge. Every night he goes to plug it in and charge it but his hands are shaky. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone. Never see a drunk's without them."

A moment passed. John couldn't believe what he just heard. How on earth had Sherlock done this? He saw Sherlock look away shyly. "Amazing," John breathed.

Sherlock looked up, surprised. "You think so?"

"Of course it was! That was extraordinary. Quite extraordinary." John couldn't help but smile at the young man's surprised expression.

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

Sherlock hesitated. "Piss off."

John suddenly started laughing and Sherlock joined him after a second. "Do you do this with the kids as well?" John asked when the laughing calmed down a bit.

"I try not to, but sometimes I can't help it. I cannot not observe." Sherlock looked at John playfully. "Did I get anything wrong?"

"Harry and I don't get on, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they're getting a divorce. And Harry is a drinker."

Sherlock seemed surprised at himself. "Spot on then. I didn't expect to be right about everything." He paused and looked at John suspiciously. "But?"

"Harry's short for Harriet."

Sherlock's mouth fell open. "Harry's your sister," he exclaimed.

John started to laugh again. He then stood up, took the two empty cups and walked to the door. "More coffee and then get back to work?"

Sherlock nodded. "Sister," John heard Sherlock mutter when he walked away and John couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

* * *

Sherlock closed the front door of the school with his keys. He and John were the last ones who were working, but when John started to complain about being hungry, they decided to stop as well.

"I guess I'll see you next Monday, then? To prepare some more things?" John asked as they walked across the schoolyard.

Sherlock didn't answer. He didn't want to admit it, but he liked John's presence. It was nice to have a normal conversation with someone instead of living a solitary life. The prospect of sitting alone at his apartment for another weekend didn't sound attractive at all. But what did normal people do on a Friday night? And what was a good thing to propose without crossing any boundaries?

"Or," John started, and Sherlock looked up from his thoughts. "We could grab something to eat? Get to know each other a bit more?"

Sherlock felt something bloom inside his chest. "I'd like that," he answered. "I know just the place."

They took a cab and drove to the address Sherlock had given the driver. Sherlock couldn't help it but glance over at John now and then. He felt John do the same, but he couldn't bring himself to look at him at the same time. They sat on the backseat of the car in complete silence during the ride and Sherlock was wishing he was better at small talk.

They both got out simultaneously when the driver pulled the car in front of the restaurant. John looked up at the name sign. "Angelo's," he read. "Perfect, I'm always in the mood for Italian."

"My thoughts exactly."

John glanced sideways at Sherlock. "Something else you deduced?"

Sherlock smirked in return. "Maybe."

They entered the restaurant and were pointed towards a small table by the window. They sat down, John ordered a bottle of Merlot and after a quick look at the menu, they ordered their food. By the time the waiter brought their plates, they were chatting freely about nothing in particular.

John looked over at Sherlock and felt a rush of warmth run through his body. Maybe it was the wine, but he felt something else too, an unfamiliar sensation. He was well aware that there were boundaries between co-workers, ones they could not cross. But the wine made John let his guard down a bit. "So, you don't have a girlfriend then?"

Sherlock didn't look up from his plate. "Girlfriend? No, not really my area."

"Oh, right." John paused, realizing what it meant. He raised his eyebrows a bit. "Do you have a boyfriend? Which is fine by the…"

This time, Sherlock's head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. "I know it's fine."

This was not going in the right direction. John smiled a little to take off the edge of the conversation. "So you've got a boyfriend?"

Sherlock looked down at his plate again. "No," he said after a moment, his voice sounding small.

"Right, okay," John started, trying to sound reassuring, but failing miserably. "You're unattached, just like me. Fine. Good," he muttered and looked away.

There was a long pause. John didn't want to look up but when he did, he looked right into Sherlock's eyes. Another rush of warmth ran through his body and he was sure he saw Sherlock's eyes darken a little. John licked his bottom lip, he couldn't help it.  
They held their gaze for a long time. But then, John realized who was sitting opposite of him. His colleague, not his date.

Sherlock seemed to realize the same thing and looked away first. He cleared his throat. "John, uhm…" he started. "I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work and while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm not sure that…"

"No," John tried to interrupt.

"This is a good idea."

"No, I'm not asking to…" John said, feeling awkward. "I was just saying, it's all fine."

Sherlock looked down at his plate again for a long time, trying to come up with a proper response. "Thank you," he mumbled and gave John a small, shy smile.

John smiled back at Sherlock and he was sure he saw him blush a little. Oh boy, what had he done?


	3. Challenge

_A/N: I started this chapter almost right after I finished the previous one, but then I decided to go play laser tag with some friends and fell on my head... Long story short and a minor concussion later, here it is!_

**Challenge**

Noun

(the situation of being faced with) something that needs great mental of physical effort in order to be done successfully and therefore tests a person's ability. 

* * *

Monday morning started with the first staff meeting of the new school year. John looked around the large table to his new colleagues. He had met some of them last week, but most of them were unfamiliar. One by one they came up to him, shook his hand and introduced themselves.  
He tried to remember the names and was making a list inside his head. There were Sarah and Janine who were responsible for the reception year, Ella did year 1 by herself, Mary and Irene did year 2 together, a young teacher named Molly did year 3. Year 4 was his class, another guy named Philip thought year 5 and John knew Mike already, who thought year 6. It wasn't a very large staff but then again, it wasn't a very large school either.  
Everyone was getting seated and was talking about their holiday. John looked around, but there was no sign of his partner. He looked at his watch. It was almost 10 o'clock. John was sure that Sherlock wouldn't be late, something that became clear the other day. Just when he took his phone from his pocket to send a text, Molly sat down next to him.

"Don't bother. He won't be here," she said, her tone light and friendly.

John put his phone down. "Why not?"

Molly shrugged. "He doesn't do meetings. Never been to one of them, much to the Lestrade's frustration."

"Aren't meetings mandatory?"

"They are, but that doesn't matter to Sherlock. He just draws his own plan," Molly smiled slightly. "You'll get used to it."

John was about to ask another question about Sherlock, but principal Lestrade cleared his throat and the attention in the room shifted to him at once. "Welcome everybody. I hope you all had a pleasant summer holiday." Some teachers nodded their heads. "I will keep this meeting as short as possible, I know you're all busy preparing the upcoming year. First, the good news. I'd like to welcome our new colleague John Watson, who will teach physical education to the upper years and will be teaching our year 4 together with Sherlock this year."

"Good luck with that," Philip Anderson muttered. Lestrade shot him a look and continued.

"Unfortunately, there will be a lot at stake this year. The inspection is breathing down our necks. If we're not able to get better results this year, we will be in trouble. We need to up our game." Lestrade looked around. "As you can see, there are some more changes in staff. Anthea and Bill have decided to leave Bart's and work somewhere else. Molly agreed to do year 3 by herself this year, and Mike will be fully responsible for year 6." Lestrade paused for a brief moment to let the news sink in. "However, I'm fully confident that we can make it work and that you are the best staff the school could wish for."

Anderson snorted. "Yeah, right," he muttered.

Lestrade eyed the man. "You don't agree with me, Philip?"

"I think we all hoped you would've made one more cut," he said, looking around for support. Most of the teachers nodded in agreement, only Mike and Molly didn't.

"Uh oh, here we go again," John heard Molly mumble softly.

Lestrade sat up straight and sighed. "We've been over this. I'm not going to fire Sherlock."

"You know he's holding us back."

"He's not," Mike said.

"He is, and he gave us a hell of a time last year." Philip threw his hands up in frustration. "He's not even supposed to work here anymore!"

Mike huffed. "Even so, he still managed to have the best results with his class."

"I think we ought to have a say in who's on our staff and who's not," Mary interjected. "If you want us to work together, that is."

"You can't blame Sherlock for last year. It wasn't his fault," Molly said with a slight tremble in her voice. "Not completely," she added.

Mary and Philip were about to argue on that when Lestrade came between them. "That's enough. This meeting isn't about last year, and definitely not about Sherlock. It has been discussed and as you can see, agreements were made and consequences were accepted. End of discussion." Lestrade looked around the group of people with a stern gaze. No one dared to argue anymore.

"Good. Let's continue."

John's mind was preoccupied during the rest of the meeting. He couldn't stop wondering what had happened last year and noticed he found himself conflicted. He actually started to like working with Sherlock. Who was he kidding, he started to like Sherlock himself too. But he was sure he'd only seen the tip of the iceberg and that working with Sherlock would become a challenge.

But then again, John was always up for a challenge.

* * *

After having a cup of coffee and a quick chat with Mike John returned to his classroom, only to find principal Lestrade and Sherlock standing in the middle of it, arguing. John hesitated for a moment, but Sherlock had already seen him and John knew by the look on his face he wanted him to enter. When John did, he knew what it was about right away.

"Will you just collaborate for once and attend the staff meetings from now on? I can't keep protecting you, Sherlock."

"I don't need protection," Sherlock sneered. He started pacing around. "And I definitely don't need those vultures to do my job."

"You do if you want to keep your job," Lestrade said. John knew from the look on his face that he was trying to stay as calm as possible. For a moment John thought about interrupting their argument. but he didn't know what to say.

"I accepted the consequences, didn't I? I'm doing everything you ordered me to. So back off."

Lestrade sighed. "That's not the point. You are under my supervision and I want to see you in those meetings so I can keep an eye on you. You can start to cooperate and I'll stand down."

"Childish."

"But I'm dealing with a child," Lestrade countered. "Sherlock, I want you on my staff but you can't do this on your own. Clear?"

Sherlock stopped pacing and looked at Lestrade with narrowed eyes. "Oh what, so you are going to force me to go to those meetings, just to bully me?"

Lestrade looked Sherlock right in his eyes and held his gaze for a moment. "I'm just trying to prevent that you fall from the wagon again."

Sherlock huffed. "I'm all cleared."

"You don't need medications anymore? Not even one?"

Sherlock jerked up his sleeve and showed a nicotine patch on his arm. "I don't even smoke."

Lestrade mirrored him and showed his patch too. "Neither do I. Let's work together this year."

Sherlock finally looked defeated and gave a small nod. Lestrade started walking out of the classroom. On his way out he stopped at John's side, who was looking at the ground and patted him on his shoulder. "Keep an eye on him, will you?" Lestrade said to him softly. John just nodded in answer.

John waited a moment before walked further into the classroom and sat down on top of the instruction table. He watched Sherlock, who started pacing again with his head bowed down. John noticed that this was a different kind of expression than before. He looked worried, almost scared. "Sherlock," he tried, but there was no response. He tried again. "Hey, Sherlock?" Still nothing.

John stood up, walked to the taller man and grabbed him firmly by his shoulders. "Hey," John started, his voice calm. "Stop it."

Sherlock's head snapped up and his eyes met John's. They held each other's gaze for a long moment and John could see and feel Sherlock relax a little. Then, John suddenly remembered last Friday night and let go quickly. He walked back to the table, sat down again and started fidgeting with some papers. Sherlock walked to the desk and sat down behind the laptop.

"I'm not going to ask you about what happened last year," John started after a long moment. He didn't look up from the papers in his hand. "And I know we don't know each other well. But if you want to talk, you can. I will listen."

When John did look up, he saw that Sherlock was staring at him with a stunned look on his face and John was a little confused. Was it really such a crazy thing to say? He just offered some support, he didn't mean anything else by it. He was about to clarify that when another thought crossed his mind. Maybe it wasn't a crazy thing to say, but a crazy thing to hear. His chest tightened a little by that thought.

Sherlock returned to the laptop and started typing, a clear sign that they were going back to work. John sat down opposite him and looked at the stag of files. "Should we start with discussing students?"

Sherlock nodded in response but didn't answer or look up from his screen.

Then, John saw it. "Is that my computer?"

"Of course."

"What?"

"Mine is in my briefcase." A small smile crept up at the corner of Sherlock's mouth.

"And you couldn't be bothered to get up?" John raised his eyebrows. "It's password protected."

Sherlock shrugged. "In a manner of speaking. It took me less than a minute to guess yours. Not exactly fort Knox."

John started laughing. "You git."

* * *

After a long afternoon of discussing students and looking through files, John was happy to be home. He had decided not to do anything else tonight but to eat the fish and chips he bought from the local shop on the corner of the street, drink a beer or two and watch a movie.  
He was exhausted. Discussing students was always a lot of work, especially when you didn't know them at all. He had a lot of catching up to do. But that wasn't the thing that had exhausted him the most.  
He had felt the need to walk on eggshells the rest of the day around Sherlock. He did his best not to ask, not to linger and not to make comments about what happened that morning during the meeting or with principal Lestrade. The fact that Sherlock seemed in a mood short after that, didn't help. He had become snappy, arrogant and had decided that John was more of a burden than a help the rest of the day. John really did his best to keep the mood light and to stay as nice as possible, but Sherlock didn't make it easy to do so.

After finishing his dinner, John sank onto his couch with his second beer of tonight in his hand. He took the remote and started searching for a good movie on his television. Just when he found one, he heard the doorbell rang. Sighing, he stood up. He was not in the mood for company.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see a tall, dark-haired figure on his doorstep. "Sherlock? What are you doing here?"

Sherlock didn't answer. His shoulders were hunched forward, hands in the pockets of his coat and his head hang low. "Hello, John," he mumbled.

John was startled for a moment. He wasn't surprised by the fact that Sherlock knew his address, but why was he here? His first thought was that Sherlock wanted to continue the discussing and bickering but when he looked at the man, he noticed his body language. This wasn't someone who was here to fight. This was someone in need of his company.

"Do you want to come in?" John said gently. He saw the relief on Sherlock's face and didn't wait for an answer. He stepped aside, let Sherlock in, and led him into the living room.

John automatically walked back to the couch and sat down, but Sherlock didn't follow his lead. He stood still in the middle of the room, his gaze directed to the ground. He obviously felt uncomfortable and John didn't know what to do. Part of him wanted to grab his hand or hug the man, but he figured that wouldn't be appropriate.

"Is everything all right?" John asked quietly after a moment. He tried his best to sound friendly.

"John, I…" Sherlock started. He was fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. "I wanted to say I'm…" It took him some effort to continue. "I'm sorry. For this afternoon, I mean."

John blinked up at him and felt almost felt sorry for Sherlock. The man who he got to know the past week was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was an insecure, almost scared man struggling in front of him and John felt a dull ache inside his chest. How could this be so hard for him? What had happened?

"That's okay," John simply replied. He didn't know what else to say. "Do you want something to drink?" he added a moment later.

For the first time Sherlock had entered the room, he looked up at John. "Yes please," he answered.

John shot him a small smile and stood up from the couch. "Have a seat then." He walked towards the kitchen and opened the fridge. "What do you want? A beer?"

Sherlock didn't reply immediately. "Oh, I… I don't drink."

John didn't miss the hesitation in Sherlock's voice and realized he hadn't seen Sherlock drink during dinner as well. He couldn't help himself but wonder if this was just something he didn't do, or if there was something more behind it.

"Tea then?"

"Yes, thank you." Sherlock sounded relieved.

A moment later, John returned to the living room with a beer and a steaming mug of tea. He handed it to Sherlock who had sat down on the sofa. John sat down on the couch again took a sip from his beer. Sherlock mirrored the movement and took a sip from his cup. His eyes flicked up at John briefly and John gave him a sympathetic look, hoping it would be enough for Sherlock to relax a little. He did.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "John, I think I owe you an explanation."

"No," John replied and shook his head. "You don't owe me anything. If you want to give me one, you can. But don't tell me out of obligation. Like I said earlier if you want to talk, I will listen. But you don't need to tell me anything."

"But..." Sherlock started, but John didn't want to hear it.

"Don't. I don't need to know what happened last year. I believe you are a decent human being and a great teacher and that's all I need to know in order to work with you. We will deal with the rest later." John paused for a moment. Then, he gave Sherlock a small smile. "Now, I was going to watch a movie. do you want to watch it with me?"


	4. Dedication

**Dedication**

_Noun_

The willingness to give a lot of time and energy to something because it is important.

* * *

John stared at the ceiling as he waited for the time to pass by. It was 5.34 A.M, but he was already wide awake. He knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. The slight excitement he had felt before he went to bed manifested in utter nervousness. In a few hours, he would finally meet his class for the first time this year. 26 students were becoming his responsibility for the rest of the year. He wouldn't just be "John," anymore, but "Mr. John".  
He knew how to teach. Actually, he was rather good at teaching and he knew it. But the fact he knew didn't make any difference in his level of nervousness. It made it worse. He hadn't been teaching since he'd got back from Afghanistan, so he knew he had to allow himself some time to accommodate. But he wanted to prove he still was the good teacher he was before he got shot.

John sighed. He was grateful that the PE lessons wouldn't start until next week. That way, he had a week to get to know his class first and still had enough time to prepare his upcoming PE lessons. If he was totally honest with himself, those were the lessons he was most nervous about. He had to teach other classes as well, classes he didn't know at all. And even though he always had been a sportsman, he wasn't sure if he was fit enough to provide the lessons he wanted to teach.

John turned on his side to look at his alarm. 5.47 AM. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep now. He got up, walked to the bathroom and turned on the tap of the shower. After a minute of waiting for the water to warm up, he stepped out of his pajama pants and under the hot shower, letting the water calm his nerves a bit.

After a long shower, he shaved with precision, got dressed, went to the kitchen and prepared some lunch to take with him. Since he was already up, John decided he would take a walk before going to Bart's and grab some breakfast and coffee on the go.

Around 6.30, John took his briefcase, left his apartment and started walking in no general direction. He bought a sandwich at one of the stands on the corner of the street and was pleased to notice that his mind was a lot more at ease than earlier this morning. He allowed his thoughts to come and go as he walked through the city.

He suddenly wondered how Sherlock would prepare the start of the new school year. Surely he wouldn't be nervous, the man was confident enough to know what he was capable of and had done this before. But then again, maybe the things that had happened last year would be cause for a little nervousness after all.

John felt the sudden urge to text Sherlock to see if he was already awake, but when he grabbed his phone, he stopped himself. The last thing he wanted was to come across as a stalker. After all, it was only early in the morning and he would see Sherlock in an hour anyway.

He was surprised to feel his phone buzzing a second later.

_Knowing how I felt on my first day, you are probably already awake. Coffee? – SH_

Almost right after the first text, his phone buzzed again.

_If it's not convenient, forget I asked. – SH_

John felt the corners of his mouth creep up and wasn't able to stop his smile. He quickly answered back.

_Actually, I think I'm not that far from your house. I'll meet you in 5, we can grab a coffee on our way to Bart's? – JW_

John got an answer almost immediately.

_The address is 221b Baker Street. – SH_

John sped up his pace and looked for the right direction on his phone while he was walking. It took him less than five minutes to walk to the address Sherlock had given him. He walked up the doorstep and wanted to send a message to Sherlock that he was waiting for him outside, but the door already swung open. Sherlock greeted him with a shy smile and walked out of the apartment. His eyes were glistening with excitement and John could see he was eager to start the new school year.

John returned the smile and started walking along Sherlock. At the nearest stand, he bought two large cups of coffee and handed one to Sherlock. They continued to walk and started chatting freely about nothing in particular.

About the time they arrived at the school, it was 7.55 and John was surprised to feel he wasn't nervous anymore at all. They entered the school together and were greeted by Sally Donovan, who was sitting behind the reception desk and gave the two men a daring look.

"Hello freak," she called from behind her desk.

John stopped and raised her eyebrows at her. She really needed to stop calling him a freak. He opened his mouth to comment about it, but Sherlock is ahead of him.

"Donovan, don't open your mouth. You'll just ruin our morning," Sherlock said in a bored tone.

"Why did you two come in together?"

Sherlock gave her a look. "Because we ran into each other."

Clearly, Sally was enjoying herself. "Why?"

"Because London isn't that big," Sherlock sighed, visibly getting tired of this conversation.

"Well, you know what I think, don't you?" she said with a grin on her face. John didn't miss her innuendo.

"Always, Sally." Sherlock looked at her for a moment and sniffed the air. "I even know you didn't make it home last night."

John raised his eyebrow by this statement and looked at the receptionist. How could Sherlock possibly tell? He looked at her clothes and her make-up, but he couldn't notice anything strange. Everything was spot-on. Sally didn't' seem that impressed and gave Sherlock a fake smile.

Sherlock was about to walk away when Philip Anderson arrived. His face hardened by the sight of Sherlock and John. Sherlock turned around to face the man, his face completely blank. John stepped a little closer to face his other colleague as well.

"Ah, Anderson. Here we are again."

Philip glowers at Sherlock. "It's the first day of the new year. I don't want it to be contaminated by your presence. We clear on that?"

"Quite clear. And is your wife away for long?"

Anderson huffed. "Don't pretend you worked that out. Someone told you that."

"Your deodorant told me that," Sherlock said, matter-of-factly.

"My deodorant?"

"It's for men."

"Of course it's for men! I'm wearing it!" Anderson exclaimed impatiently.

"So is Sally over there."

Anderson turned around quickly and looked at Sally, who gave him a panicky look and shrugged her shoulders. John looked away awkwardly.

"And I think It just vaporized," Sherlock said with a grin on his face. "May I go in now?"

Anderson's face turned red. "You listen to me, okay," he stammered. "whatever you're trying to imply…"

Sherlock cut him off. "I'm not implying anything. I'm sure Sally just came around for a nice little chat and happened to stay over." He walked passed the receptionist and glanced at her. "And I assume scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees." With that, Sherlock walked away and John followed suit.

"Brilliant," he muttered while following Sherlock towards their classroom.

Sherlock turned around to face him. "You know you do that out loud?"

John felt a slight blush creep up his cheeks. "Sorry, I'll shut up."

"No, it's fine," Sherlock said with a small smile while he opened the door.

John walked to the desk, sat down and started to read some documents. Sherlock started to rearrange some things in the classroom. They had agreed that John was the one who would start the day. Sherlock already knew the children because of the music lessons he had with them and normally John would be the teacher who the class had on Monday. Sherlock would back down a bit, letting John take the lead today.

After a long moment of working in complete silence, John looked up. This was one of the many moments where John realized how strangely familiar it felt to work with Sherlock.

Time passed by quickly and soon it was almost 8.40. John took a deep breath, a new rush of nervousness overtook him. He stood up and started pacing around the classroom.

Sherlock looked up. "You'll do just fine," he said, offering John a reassuring smile. John wanted to reply but was cut off by the loud buzzing of the school bell. He took a deep sigh, walked towards the door and waited for the first student to arrive.

From the moment the first student arrived, there was no time to be nervous anymore. John greeted each student individually, making sure to take the time for a proper introduction. After a handshake and a warm smile, John pointed everyone to their new place in the classroom.

When the class was filled with students, John looked around for a moment. The kids in front of him were chatting happily about their holidays and John couldn't hide his smile. After a couple more minutes, he decided to start the day.

"Good morning everybody," he started in a loud voice. Quickly, it became quiet in the classroom and all eyes were directed on him. "My name is Mr. John and you all know Mr. Sherlock over there." He pointed in the direction of Sherlock, who sat in the back of the classroom, who gave a small wave.

John continued after the attention was back on him. "Together we will make sure you all will have a great year." He smiled a little. "Now, let's get started, shall we?"

* * *

The next couple of days went by in a haze. Because the P.E. lessons were canceled for this week John was able to work at home Tuesday and Wednesday, which he used to prepare his P.E. classes and his upcoming lessons. He still had a lot of reading to do in order to catch up with the new teaching methods, not to mention Sherlock's own methods and ways to teach the children.

When he arrived at Bart's on Thursday, he felt a lot more confident. His first encounter with his students on Monday went well and he was happy to notice that once he stood in front of his class, he could still be the teacher he wanted to be. It felt like riding a bicycle; once you got the hang of it, you didn't know how to do it differently.

He was pleased to see that Sherlock left a note for him in where he wrote what he had done with the students. There were no difficulties or things they had to discuss, which John was happy about. The last thing he wanted was to start this year with a lot of difficulties.

Sherlock closed his note with "I'll see you tomorrow," and John felt a rush of warmth spreading through his body. He couldn't help himself. The foresight of seeing Sherlock and fill him in about how he was experiencing his first days made him happy.

The class started their day with reading, followed by writing. After the morning break, they had spelling and math and in no time it was time for the lunch break. John was walking around his classroom to pick up some of the work from the children when Mike entered the classroom with two steaming mugs of coffee.

"Hey John, how are you doing? Are you settling in? I thought you could use this." he asked cheerfully and held up one of the mugs.

John looked up at Mike and walked a little closer. "Ah thanks," he replied. "I'm fine, everything is going great. I'm so happy to be in front of a class full of students again. The kids are amazing." He couldn't suppress his enthusiasm.

Mike grinned at him. "And how's working with Sherlock going? You two haven't fought each other out of the classroom yet?"

John raised his eyebrows at that. "No, not at all," he started. "Quite the opposite actually. We are kind of a good match together."

Mike didn't reply to this but gave John a long look. John couldn't help it but feel a bit uncomfortable. He quickly looked away and pretended to look through some of the work of the students.

Mike walked towards the desk and put the mug of coffee on it. His eyes lingered on something. "Sherlock wrote you a note?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"You two really are getting along then."

John didn't know how to answer that and shot Mike a questioning look.

"He normally doesn't do that, John," Mike explained. "He doesn't give much about his colleagues, or his partner. Sure, he's a great teacher and if you get to know him a nice man as well, but he's kind of a loner. And a perfectionist, if I might add. The fact that he's helping you figure things out is saying a lot," he grinned.

John waved with his hand dismissively. "I'm sure he does it with every new partner he has," John said, but he could feel his cheeks burn up a little and when he looked at Mike John knew he noticed as well.

The grin on Mike's face widened even further. "Are you sure there's nothing more going on?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You would tell me if you got the hots for your new colleague, right Johnny?" Mike teased.

"Stop it. I'm not gay," John replied a little too quickly.

"I'm not saying you are, but maybe you like both…"

"Drop it, Mike," John warned him.

Mike raised up his hands in a defensive way. "Okay, okay. Forget I asked. Are you joining me for lunch?"

John sighed. "Fine, but if you say another word about Sherlock I will leave. And wipe that grin off your face, please."

"Noted," Mike answered and tried to put away his grin, but failed miserably. John rolled his eyes and followed him to the teachers' room.

* * *

After the lunch break, the class started to work on a new project. John had come up with the idea to start a blog about the class and the events that would take place during the upcoming year. Sherlock wasn't a big fan of the idea at first. It would take a lot of dedication and was probably going to be one of those projects they would start with a lot of enthusiasm, but forget about It halfway during the year. But he gave John his blessing to go ahead if he wanted to.

The students however responded enthusiastically when John told them his idea. So he decided to go ahead with his little project. The first assignment he gave his students was to come up with different subjects that they could write about and the different tasks they could fulfill.

Around 14.15, John let the students wrap up their work. The class would have music from Sherlock for the last hour.

"Okay, listen up everybody," John called out to the students. Slowly, everybody turned their heads towards him and became silent. When everybody had their attention on him again, John continued. "I have to give you a compliment. You guys were really focused on the project and worked together really well. I look forward to hearing your ideas. For now, make sure your tables are empty before you leave the classroom and don't forget to put your chair on the table. We will go to the music room when everyone is ready."

A girl named Jenny raised her hand. "Mr. John, will you join us when we have music?"

John wanted to answer, but the boy who sat next to Jenny was ahead of him. "Yes, that would be so cool!"

Soon, the whole class started to try to convince John and was yelling arguments on why John had to join them. John tried to get the students quiet again, but it was a lost cause.

"They never get tired of trying."

John spun around and saw Sherlock standing in the door opening with a smile on his face. He was taken aback for a moment but tried to recover quickly. It was the daring, playful look in Sherlock's eyes convinced John to join his class.

"All right, all right," John called. The class was silent in an instance. "For this once, I will come and listen. But that's just because I've heard great things about you guys."

The class started cheering and clapping and John couldn't help but smile at the surprised look on Sherlock's face. He clearly didn't anticipate this turn of events, and John couldn't help but feel a little smug with himself.

The class quickly followed Sherlock and John out of the classroom, walked through the corridors and up the step to the first floor, where the music room was situated. John was surprised to see it was a large room with college benches and a stage in the front of the classroom. Keyboards, drums, guitars and other instruments were spread around the room.

The class immediately went up the stage and stood in a choir arrangement, clearly knowing what Sherlock wanted them to do. A girl named Norah walked up the piano and sat  
John decided to sit down in one of the benches at the far end of the row. He watched Sherlock walk up to the stage and stood in front of the group, patiently waiting for them to be quiet.

"Okay everyone," Sherlock said softly when everyone was quiet. "I want everyone to focus. We did a great job last year, but I'd like to keep working on our harmonies. I believe we can finetune those even more. We are going to warm up our voices and than I want to repeat Viva la Vida. After that, we'll start with something new. Norah, could you give us a C?"

After a brief warming up, Sherlock called attention again. He nodded to Norah, who started to play the intro of Viva la Vida. Soon, the whole room filled with voices and John's mouth fell open. He knew Sherlock would be able to pull off something nice with the students, but this was beyond expectation. The song sounded absolutely great. The harmonies were beautiful, and the arrangement was surprising. But more important than that was the fact that every student really seemed to enjoy himself. This took a lot of practice, a lot of work and a lot of dedication to pull this off.

It was at that moment that John realized something.

He really had to do his very best not to fall head over heels in love with this man.


	5. Explanation

_A/N: Happy (belated) New Year! Did you know you have a New Year resolution? No? Now you do! I really like to hear from you, so leave a comment if you like!_

**Explanation**

_Noun_

A reason or justification given for an action or belief.

* * *

The second week of John's new Job went down in a haze. Everything started to settle and there was a lot more work that had to be done compared to the first week. John was happy to notice his PE lessons went quite well this morning, although it was more of an introduction than actual lessons.  
He had decided to stay at Bart's that afternoon to finish some correction work and some preparations for the upcoming week. Working at school on his free Friday afternoon wasn't ideal, but at least he would have the weekend off.

Around 5, John decided he had done enough. He packed his briefcase, closed the workplace where he had been sitting the last few hours and walked through the hallway, only to run into Molly and Mike.

"Hey John, I thought you didn't work on Fridays?" Molly asked friendly.

"I teach PE in the mornings, but I decided to catch up on some work. Heading home now."

"How is it going?"

"Quite well. It's nice to be back in the saddle."

Molly gave John a sympathetic smile. "That's great to hear."

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" Mike asked while he put on his coat.

John shrugged in answer. "Not really. Maybe watch the game tonight. Why?"

"Oh John, you should join us!" Molly spoke enthusiastically. "We are going to grab something to eat and drink a few beers in a pub nearby."

"Yeah mate, come with us!" Mike added. "It's the perfect moment to get to know one of your new colleagues outside these four walls. Besides, I feel like we haven't had a decent chat in ages."

John didn't need to think twice before agreeing on joining. Grabbing something to drink with his new co-workers was far more exciting than watching sports alone.

* * *

"No way!" Molly exclaimed and looked at John with big eyes and a smile on her face.

Mike laughed and clapped John on his shoulder. "Yes, he did. And on top of that, he told McKenzie to mind his own business so John here could finish his damn internship. It was fantastic. I've never seen McKenzie acting that polite towards anybody ever again. And mind you, this was only in year two!"

"That's amazing!"

John looked at his glass and smiled shyly. The evening was progressing pretty well. After having a decent meal, Molly, Mike, and John went to a pub nearby. They had found a table and had John got the first round of drinks at the bar. Once seated, they exchanged some small talk and some polite questions and answers when Molly realized John and Mike had studied together at St. Mary's. That was when Mike started telling embarrassing stories about their time at university.

"Molly, you went to Roehampton, right?" John asked politely.

Molly nodded in answer. "Yeah, but I wished I got accepted at St. Mary's. I loved their study program and their extra subjects."

"Wait a minute," Mike said suddenly like he had some kind of realization. "Sherlock went to Roehampton as well. Did you two know each other back then?"

This piqued John's interest. He hadn't talked about their previous education with Sherlock before and was surprised to hear he went to a normal university. For some reason, John hadn't pictured him as a student.

Molly started to blush a little. "We did. We were in the same year. I had a major crush on him in my first year. It took me over a year to realize he wasn't into me. Or women in general." She paused and took a sip of her beer. "But it made talking to him a little easier. We hang out a couple of times, talking about school and our internships, that kind of stuff. We even did some essays together in our third year. But after we graduated we each went our own direction. So you can imagine I was surprised when Greg introduced Sherlock as our new colleague two years ago."

"What was he like at university?" John asked and regretted the question almost immediately. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mike grinning at him, but he decided to ignore it.

"Oh, I thought he was quite a nice person if you got the chance to know him. He was quiet, liked to be on his own and was known for his quirks. He was an incredible know-it-all, but bloody brilliant at the same time. If you got on the good side with him he was actually quite pleasant company." Molly furrowed her eyebrows and her face grew more serious. "Now most of that is gone. I don't know what happened to him after uni, what made him harden so much. I never dared to ask." She sighed. "I wish he would loosen up a bit. Maybe join us for a drink. I think it would be good for him, but I'm sure he will say no to me."

"Oh, but I think if somebody else asked he would," Mike chuckled.

John glared at Mike and wanted to respond, but Molly was ahead of him.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sure If John here asked," Mike began and clapped John again on his shoulder, "he would come running. You should see them together Molly, it's quite endearing."

"Mike, stop it," John warned him.

"What? I'm just happy you too get along so well," Mike grinned.

Molly interfered. "Oh John, please try? I think he really would like to come, but he just needs a push in the right direction."

John sighed and thought for a moment. He would be lying if he told himself he didn't want Sherlock to be here. It would be nice to get to know him a bit more, see him in a different environment. And perhaps Molly was right, maybe he just needed to unwind a bit.

"Okay, I will text him. But no guarantees."

"Great! Thanks, John. Next round is on me!"

With that, Molly hopped off her barstool and walked towards the bar. John took his phone from his pocket and saw Mike still grinning.

"Oh, shut up."

"What? I didn't say anything. And besides, it's a great idea. Don't say you won't be happy when he shows up!"

John shook his head and shifted his attention to his phone, but he couldn't quite suppress his smile. He took a second to think about the right thing to say. Then, he started texting.

_Hey Sherlock, I'm at a pub with Mike and Molly and we thought that maybe you'd like to come as well. We are at the Fogg's tavern on St. Martin's Lane. Feel free to drop by. – JW_

John looked at his message and started doubting his words. Maybe it was too casual. He quickly decided to send another message.

_It would be great if you would join us, but no pressure of course! – JW_

He sighed. Now, he thought it sounded too desperate. He almost wanted to write another message when Molly came back with fresh beers. John decided to let it go and put his phone away. He turned his attention back to Molly and Mike, who were chatting about their new classes now.

John really tried to join the conversation, but he was distracted. He knew it would be better not to get his hopes up, but he couldn't help it. He caught himself checking the door every time someone entered the pub. He had the urge to check his phone to see if Sherlock had texted, but he fought it. Instead, he silently drank his beer and pretended to listen to a story about one of Molly's new students.

But as time passed by, John felt his hope fade away. After an hour, he finally convinced himself that if Sherlock wanted to join them, he would be there by now. He was about to get up from his chair to get the next round when the door of the pub opened again. A tall, dark-haired figure entered the pub and John could feel a rush of excitement running through his body.

Sherlock walked towards the table and greeted Molly and Mike politely. They both looked surprised but happy at the unexpected sight of their colleague standing in a bar on a Friday evening.

"Hello John," Sherlock said in his low baritone voice.

John gave Sherlock a small smile. "Hey Sherlock," he simply replied. Sherlock gave John a small smile as well and lifted himself on the barstool opposite to John.

Mike gave John nudge in the ribs. "Shall I get the next round then, since you've got your mind occupied? Sherlock, what would you like to drink? A beer? Something else?"

"I'll start with a coffee, please. It's cold outside," Sherlock simply replied. John knew Sherlock didn't drink, but it was clear that Mike didn't. He wondered if it was supposed to be a secret.

When Mike got back with three beers and a coffee, he asked everybody's opinions about the plans for the upcoming field trip, which led to a new topic of conversation.  
John was happy to notice Sherlock was talking easily and that there was no tension what so ever between him and his colleagues. Molly seemed happy to have a chance to catch up with her former study partner and Mike always knew how to make people more comfortable. John had to admit that it was nice to see his partner a little more relaxed. There was even a polite smile once or twice.

As the evening progressed, the topics of conversation shifted from work to other things. John found it hard to keep his attention on the conversation though. Once in a while, his gaze shifted to the man opposite him and he let his mind wander. Sherlock caught his glance once or twice, replied with a smile and looked away.

When Molly and Mike were in a heavy discussion about the latest series on Netflix, John let his gaze shift to Sherlock once again, only to find Sherlock looking at him as well. This time, they didn't look away. They stared at each other and John felt his cheeks warm.

"I'll get the next round," John said abruptly in the hope that no one would notice the blush on his cheeks. Molly and Mike didn't even look up when he walked away, but he was sure that he saw a grin on Sherlock's face.

John was waiting at the bar to order when he felt a light hand on his back. "I'd like to have sparkling water," he heard Sherlock say in his low baritone.

"I know," he replied.

"You remembered."

John didn't answer but looked up at Sherlock. He was about to say something when the bartender came up to take his order.

"Three beers and sparkling water, please."

John watched the bartender walk towards the tap. When he was gone, he felt how Sherlock bent towards him. "Thanks for the invite," he whispered and returned to the table, leaving John standing at the bar with a blush on his cheeks again.

When John arrived back at the table though, Sherlock was nowhere to be found. He immediately knew something was wrong.

"Where's Sherlock?" he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"I'm so sorry John," Molly started, her voice quivering slightly. "I asked how he was doing and everything was fine, but when I asked how he felt about what happened last year he just… froze. He didn't say a word, just stood up and walked away. I think I screwed up."

"Do you think he went home?"

"I don't think so, his coat is still here."

John didn't know what to do. He wanted to go after Sherlock, to make sure he was okay. But he didn't know if it would be appreciated. He sat down and ran his hand across his face. He knew it wasn't right to ask, but the question already slipped out of his mouth before he knew it.

"What happened last year?"

* * *

"Molly told me I could probably find you here."

Sherlock didn't look up. He wasn't surprised that John was the one who came looking for him. He knew his other colleagues wouldn't dare.

John stepped away from the door opening, closed the door and stood across Sherlock. "I thought you didn't smoke."

"Normally, I don't."

Sherlock looked up at John. There was something about the way he stood, about the way he looked at him. There was sympathy in John's eyes and Sherlock didn't need more deductions to know why. "They told you."

"Bits and pieces, yes."

"They don't know half of it," Sherlock spat. He regretted it right away. He knew John didn't deserve it. He was just so fed up with everything.

Despite his aggressive tone, John's look didn't change. He started to speak in a kind, soft voice. "Listen. I told you before, if you don't want to tell me, it's…"

Sherlock cut him off. "I'm an addict. Cocaine, mostly. I managed to get clean a couple of years ago and decided to live a celibate life. That's the reason why I don't drink. No drugs, no alcohol, nothing. It's too much of a trigger." He held his burning cigarette up and looked at it. "The only thing I allow myself is to smoke an occasional cigarette."

When John didn't say anything, Sherlock took a breath. Even though he didn't want to admit it, it wasn't easy to talk about it. He preferred to keep things to himself, especially things about the past. But for some reason, it didn't seem that hard to tell John about what had happened. He cleared his throat and continued.

"Last year has been… a challenge. I was trying not to relapse but I got in quite a dark place. I will spare you the details, but it wasn't pretty. Lestrade got through to me in the end and made sure I got help. Not without consequences though. He made me go into therapy and demanded meetings once in two weeks to keep me in line. He cut my hours too, so he could hire someone who could keep an eye on me. Which brings us two here." He gestured between him and John.

John wanted to say something, but he didn't know how to respond. He was flattered that Sherlock was sharing this with him, touched even. He knew it couldn't be easy for him to do so. Just when he stepped closer to Sherlock, he spoke again.

"Look, our beloved colleagues were told a different story, as well as parents. They don't know anything about my history with drugs, or why things happened last year. At school, only Lestrade knows, and I intend to keep it that way. One of the last things parents seem to want for their child is to be thought by an addict." His voice was back to his previous, distant tone so sudden that John was taken aback by it.

He looked down at his feet, wrapping his mind around the words he wanted to say to Sherlock. He wanted to comfort him, to let him know his secret was safe with him. When John looked up again, he saw a defensive look on Sherlock's face.

"I'd hoped you didn't take pity on me, but I see I was wrong."

"What?"

"You feel sorry for me. Don't." Sherlock threw his cigarette on the floor and stepped on it with force.

"it's not that, Sherlock. It's that I understand," John said and waited a moment for Sherlock to look up at him. "God, I understand only too well."

Sherlock let out a frustrated huff. "What is there to understand, John? Don't tell me you're an addict too, it would be the joke of the year."

"I understand why you don't tell people. Parents not only prefer someone who isn't an addict, but they also prefer someone who doesn't have psychological issues. Believe me, I know."

John snapped his mouth shut, realizing what he had said. He was fine with Sherlock knowing, especially after his own confession. But he hadn't intended to tell him so soon or to tell him like this.

"How?" asked Sherlock after a long minute of silence.

John sighed. "I got PTSD after I got back from Afghanistan."

"John, I'm..."

This time, John interrupted Sherlock. "Don't be. I'm fine, I managed to learn how to deal with it through therapy."

Again, there was a long silence between the two men. They both looked down at the ground, searching for the right words to say.

John decided to break the silence. "Why did you tell me though?" he asked, his voice soft and friendly again. "I am your colleague as well."

"I trust you."

John didn't say anything in response but Sherlock could see him smile. Suddenly Sherlock felt more comfortable than he had been the whole night. Something about John made him feel safe, which was unique. He looked at John and was greeted by kind, dark blue eyes and Sherlock felt his heart skip a beat. He was completely mesmerized by the man in front of him. How could he feel so secure when he was in John's presence, even though they only knew each other for a couple of weeks now?  
Sherlock's lowered his gaze and looked at John's lips, which were slightly parted. Why? Did he want to say something? Or do something? Or was he waiting for Sherlock to say or do something? Or maybe John wasn't even aware of having his lips parted. Sherlock's mind was spinning right now. What did this mean?

John suddenly seemed to realize Sherlock was staring at him and stepped back a little. "I uhm… I should go. Back inside, I mean. See you in a sec?"

Sherlock gave a small nod and looked away. As John walked past him to get back inside, he briefly took Sherlock's hand in his own and squeezed a little. Sherlock barely got the chance to register it properly, John's hand was gone almost immediately. But Sherlock didn't miss the warmth and sparks it caused which ran through his whole body after that touch. He wanted to take John's hand back into his, to pull him closer, to feel his skin against his own. But it was too late already, there was no one left.

With his eyes closed, Sherlock leaned back against the wall and took a deep, shaky breath. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest and he couldn't control the tremble in his legs. This was stupid. He was being stupid. His mind was playing tricks on him. He knew John probably was just being nice, that he was trying to comfort Sherlock. Besides, John had a decent amount of alcohol in his blood so he wasn't thinking completely straight. He probably didn't even notice that his brief touch could be interpreted as something more. It was just supposed to be a friendly gesture. Nothing less, and definitely nothing more.

Then again, there had been looks. And smiles. And kind words. And the fact that John had invited him to come. Sherlock shook his head and let out a frustrated sigh. It didn't matter how hard he tried, he knew he couldn't convince himself. He couldn't keep himself from falling, fast.

Which made him decide he had to do something about it.


	6. Friction

_A/N: First things first. Hey guys! I'm sorry it took me so long to update. A lot of stuff happened at once and I had to focus on that first. But hey, I'm back!  
__I also want to thank you guys for leaving comments. They really make my day! So if you have a second, please leave a comment behind! I promise it will make me smile! :)_

**Friction**

_Noun_.

Conflict or animosity caused by a clash of wills, temperaments, or opinions.

* * *

Monday came way too soon. For the first time in weeks, John had some time to relax during the weekend. He did some chores and groceries on Saturday and took the time to prepare himself for the upcoming week. The weather on Sunday was really nice so he had decided to go for a walk and had cooked a decent meal for himself.

The only thing that bothered him during the weekend was the fact that he hadn't heard from Sherlock at all. He had sent Sherlock a text Saturday morning to say he had enjoyed the previous evening at the bar, but he never got an answer. At first, it didn't bother him that much; it had become pretty late so maybe he was still asleep. But on Sunday he couldn't help himself but feel a little disappointed. He had a great time that Friday night and he thought Sherlock had enjoyed himself as well, despite the talk they had in the back alley of the bar. He was even sure Sherlock had tried to flirt with him and that he had picked up on John flirting with him as well. So why didn't Sherlock text him back?

In the end, John had decided not to dwell on it too much. Of course, Sherlock also had the weekend off and he was entitled to spend it the way he wanted. Maybe he didn't check his phone during the weekend, did he visit his family or did he spend some time with friends and didn't he had the time to check his texts. There was nothing to worry about.

So when John arrived at st. Barts Monday morning, he was in a pretty good mood. He greeted Mrs. Hudson, grabbed a cup of coffee from the teacher's lounge and went to his classroom to prepare the upcoming day.

Once seated at his desk, he opened the map he and Sherlock used for schedules and administration and looked for the note Sherlock left for him. He couldn't find it.

That was odd. Sherlock had written a note for John every time he had to teach the next day and John had done the same if Sherlock would be teaching the next day. He was sure there would be a note somewhere. He looked again, searched under the map, in the stack of paper on the corner of the desk, looked for it on the ground, but he found nothing.

He sighed. This meant He had to check most of the previous work from the students to see what they had done on Friday and that he didn't know if there were any problems or things he was supposed to know about. He looked at the clock, if he wanted to finish preparing everything before the students arrived, he better had to hurry.

John did his best to finish in time, but when the still buzzer went off he had the feeling he was behind on everything. This wasn't the way how he wanted to start the week. He sighed, stood up and walked to the door.

Once John got sight of the first student, he put on a smile. "Good morning Thom," he greeted. The boy gave him a smile in return and went to his seat.

"Hello, Mr. John! Look, I've got new sneakers!" A girl named Penny pointed at her shoes.

"They look nice Penny, All-Stars, right?" The girl was practically beaming at him and nodded. She went to her seat and soon the rest of the class entered the classroom one by one. John's mind formed a plan while he greeted his students.

"Okay kids," John started once the class was filled with students. "I know we normally start our week by telling how your weekend was, but I need a couple of minutes before we can start our day. Please grab your reading books and start reading in silence."

The rest of the day went quite well, considering. Luckily the students didn't notice much difference between this day and the better-prepared ones, but John was exhausted by the end of the day. He wondered if he should let Sherlock know that him not writing a note had caused a lot of stress, but he decided against it. After all, Everyone could forget it once or twice, right?

* * *

On Wednesday, John had to teach P.E. to the 4th, 5thand 6thyears. He had decided to start this year by introducing some new games and sports to the students and because of the nice weather that week he had scheduled an outdoor lesson so they could play softball.

The 5thand 6thyears had loved it. They didn't want to quit the lesson and practically begged to do it again if the weather would allow it.

The last group of the day was his own 4thgraders and John couldn't help it but looking forward to playing some ball with them. He looked at his watch. Sherlock would arrive at the fields with their class any minute now. John wondered if Sherlock would go back to school or if he would stay and watch. A rush of excitement ran through John. He really would like Sherlock to stay so he could see what John was capable of during the P.E lessons. Maybe he could convince him to stay, just like Sherlock and the students had done with the music lesson a couple of weeks ago.

John looked at his watch again. They were late. He walked to the path that led to the school so he could see his class approaching, but he saw no one. That was strange. John was certain he had written down the proper time and instructions, otherwise, the other classes would've been late as well. He decided to send a text, just to make sure everything was ok and that Sherlock was on his way whit the class.

He didn't get a reply. When John looked one last time, the class was more than 15 minutes late. This wasn't because of some delay at the school. He took his phone and looked at the message he had sent. Sherlock hadn't read his message, which didn't surprise him. For a moment John wondered if he should call instead, but he knew Sherlock probably had left his phone in the pocket of his coat like he always did. John sighed and ran his hand through his hair. This was the second time Sherlock had done something out of character. What on earth was going on?

He let his gaze wander across the field and made a decision. He started to collect the stuff he had bought with him and walked back towards the school.

Once inside, John dropped off the stuff and walked to his classroom. To his surprise, the class was working on their new history project. Sherlock was helping a small group at the end of the classroom. John wanted to knock but decided against it. It was also his class, after all.

When John entered, Norah and Penny noticed him right away. "Mr. Sherlock? Mr. John is here!" Norah called.

The students started to whisper instantly. For a second Sherlock looked shocked, but he recovered quickly. He straightened his jacket and wanted to say something, but one of their students cut him off.

"Are you alright Mr. John? We thought you were sick!"

John responded before Sherlock got the chance to. "Sick? No, I was waiting for you guys!"

The class started to mumble and John could hear most of the students were disappointed. He looked at Sherlock questioningly.

Sherlock walked closer and cleared his throat. "Well, I sent Thom to the gym but he couldn't find you, so I assumed you were sick."

"What?" John exclaimed. He wanted to argue with Sherlock, but he was suddenly aware of 28 pairs of eyes directed on him and Sherlock. "Kids, why don't you continue your project? I promise I will make up for the missed lesson this Friday."

The students seemed okay with this suggestion and turned back to their projects. Sherlock wanted to walk away, but John stopped him. "A quick word, Sherlock."

Sherlock was about to make an excuse, but the look on John's face made him change his mind. He followed John to the hallway and closed the door behind him.

"What's going on, Sherlock?"

Sherlock waved it away nonchalantly. "Just a small misunderstanding, John."

"What was there to misunderstand? I'm pretty sure the schedule I sent you was as clear as it could be otherwise the other two years would've made the same mistake. I even reminded you in yesterday's note."

"I deleted it."

John blinked. "You what?"

"I didn't think it was of any importance, so I deleted it. Won't happen again." Sherlock looked passed John through the window. "Was that all? I need to get back to my class."

Sherlock turned around, opened the door and walked back in the classroom, leaving John standing flabbergasted in the hallway, unable to respond.

* * *

"Hey John, am I interrupting?"

John looked up from his desk to see Molly standing in the doorway. It was Thursday afternoon and he was finishing some correction work before going home. He could tell Molly came with bad news just by looking at her.

"Hey Molly, not at all. What's going on?"

Molly sat down opposite him. "Well, Sherlock asked me to tell you he can't attend next weeks' field trip. He asked me to switch with him, so I guess I will be joining you if that's okay with you." She gave John an apologetic smile.

"Of course he can't," John sighed. "did he say why?"

"Personal stuff. He said he wouldn't be back in time for an appointment, but wouldn't tell me what kind."

John just huffed in response. He could have seen this coming. At least Sherlock had arranged that Molly would accompany him so he didn't need to arrange any last-minute things, but still.

"John," Molly started, her tone cautious. "I don't know if it's any of my business, but are you two okay?"

John sat back and ran his hand across his face. "Honestly? I don't know. I thought things were fine, but since we've been out last Friday he's acting strange. It's like he's ignoring me. Forgets to leave a note, doesn't read mine, forgets to bring the class to P.E, and now this? It's like he's completely following his own plan without including me."

"Hmm," Molly hummed and frowned. "It sounds a bit like Sherlock from last year."

"But why? I thought we were becoming friends, that everything was going well."

Molly raised her eyebrow at that. "Just friends?"

"Oh no, not you too," John sighed. "Talked to Mike?"

Molly gave John a small smile. "I didn't have to. John listen, I think I know what's going on here. I think Sherlock is scared of letting you in. So he tries to push you away to compromise."

"That's… kind of a strange way to deal with a new friend." John ignored the look Molly gave him. "And how do I know he's not just sick of his new partner already?"

"You don't," Molly replied. "That's why you need to talk to him about this."

"That's not going to be easy, considering he's ignoring my texts and calls."

"Then you have to find another way to make him listen to you." Molly stood up from her chair and walked away. Before she left the classroom, she turned around. "I'm sure it'll be all right. For what it's worth, he seemed to enjoy your company last Friday."

* * *

Principal Lestrade had scheduled a staff meeting on Monday afternoon. Some small things had to be discussed and he wanted to check how everyone was doing after the first month of teaching. He had asked John if he wanted to tell the rest of the staff about his new blog project, in the hope that the rest of the teachers became enthusiastic and would follow his lead.

John was halfway his story when an unexpected guest arrived. With a loud noise, the door swung open and everyone was surprised to see Sherlock entering the staff room. He said nothing and sank down on one of the unoccupied chairs gracefully, his hands behind his head. No one, including John, dared to speak first. John looked around the table and saw that everyone looked both surprised as tensed.

Lestrade was the first who dared to speak. He cleared his throat. "Sherlock, I'm glad you decided to join the meeting as well." He looked from Sherlock to John and back. "John was telling us about the blog project you have running in your class. John?"

John suddenly started to feel nervous. He knew Sherlock didn't support the project and that he had tolerated it just because John wanted to try it. John had tried to schedule it on his own days as much as possible so he wouldn't saddle Sherlock with it during his days. But that also meant Sherlock wasn't up to date about the project and John knew that he wouldn't appreciate being kept in the dark.

But then again, Sherlock could have shown some interest and asked John about it.

"Yes," John spoke to attract the attention back to himself. "As I was telling, the students are really invested in the project. That's because I let them decide what they want to do. I didn't divide the tasks, they did. I don't come up with the subjects, they do. This way, they really get the feeling it's their own project instead of something I told them to do." John heard Sherlock huff. He looked at him briefly and raised his eyebrow, but when Sherlock didn't speak up, he continued. "Of course, this project takes a lot of time. But I tried to combine other subjects with this project. For instance, I changed the assignment they have to do for their typing course so they have time to write up some of their articles. And a big bonus is the fact they have the chance to develop their social-, organizational-, and planning skills with this project."

"I want to look if it's possible to make this project school-wide," Lestrade explained. "That's why I asked John to tell you something about it. Of course, we must see what's achievable per class and work out the details, but I think it will be incredibly motivating for our students to participate. Any thoughts? Questions?"

John was glad Mike was the first to give his reaction. "I think it's a great idea! I'm sure my students would love it."

"Mine as well, some of them are really into writing stories lately," Molly said and smiled warmly at John. "Good idea, John."

"I think it's a challenge to include our youngest students, but maybe there are a couple of older students who want to write a blog about our classes as well?" Janine said and looked at the direction of Anderson, who nodded.

More colleagues started to come up with ideas and John felt a weight fell off his shoulders. The fact that his own class was dedicated to the project was great, but he didn't expect that his colleagues were that enthusiastic as well.

"And how are you going to measure the results?" Sherlock suddenly spoke and everyone fell silent instantly. "And how will you motivate your students to proceed with this project through the year? Or include the pupils who aren't that motivated?" He shifted in his seat and sat up straight. "And how much time will it take to work out this plan? Time we also need to do correction work, to prepare our lessons, to fill in reports. I'm sure it will be at the expense of the quality of our regular curriculum. And that's the last thing we want since we got the inspection breathing down our necks, isn't it? Not to mention…"

Lestrade interrupted Sherlock. "I think this is exactly what we need. This is the way to up our game, to distinguish us from other schools. And besides, the results of your class are much better than last year."

"And who do you think made that happen?" Sherlock snapped, his tone arrogant and bitter. A couple of colleagues started mumbling with each other. John looked at him in disbelief. This was a low blow, even for him.

"You can't be serious," Mike started, disbelief clear in his voice. "I think you mean that John here is the one who…"

John interrupted him. "Do you honestly think that I'm not functioning well enough? That I'm not doing my best to get those results too?" he asked. He hated that his voice sounded smaller than he anticipated, but he got Sherlock's attention anyway. This was the first time they looked at each other and John could see arrogance, realization and guilt flash across Sherlock's face in seconds.

"No, that's not what I… I didn't…" Sherlock stammered. John noticed his colleagues were silent again and he watched Sherlock sink back in his chair.

After what felt like minutes, Lestrade cleared his throat again to attract attention. "Uhm, let's take a five-minute break, shall we?"

Before anyone could agree, Sherlock stood up from his chair and stormed out of the staff room. John didn't think for a second and walked after him, hoping to catch up before he walked out of the school. At the end of the corridor, he succeeded. He took Sherlock by the arm and pulled him inside the nearest room he could find, which was the supply closet full of craft stuff, papers and stationary. John closed the door and pushed Sherlock against the wall with more force than intended, but he didn't care.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" John started, no longer able to put his anger aside. "I've put up with a lot of crap from you last week, but now you are questioning my ability to teach? In front of our colleagues? In front of Lestrade?"

Sherlock looked down at the ground. "I didn't want to do that," he mumbled. He started to shift on his feet uncomfortably.

"Then why did you? Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? I know you have your doubts about that project, but you don't have any reason to doubt me!"

"I know."

"And beyond that, did you realize you were denying our pupils proper education when you decided not to come to P.E?" John was getting on a roll now, and the fact that Sherlock didn't argue with him made him feel even more powerful.

"I know."

"You are the one who's jeopardizing our regular curriculum right now! Not to mention, being an awful colleague as well."

"I know."

John still wasn't finished yet. "You were acting like an arrogant bastard all week. I should report this to Lestrade, see what he thinks about your behavior last week! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do that."

John didn't mean to yell, but he could no longer manage his anger. He saw Sherlock flinch a little and knew he had gone too far. He wanted to take back what he said immediately but two clear grey-blue eyes looked up at him and John suddenly lost the ability to speak. He saw something he didn't see before. This wasn't the competent, the almost arrogant man John knew. This was a man who was incredibly insecure and did his very best to hide it. Could it be that Molly was right after all?

After a long moment, Sherlock spoke. "Because I'm sorry," he said in a small voice and John felt his anger ebb away instantly. This wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want to get Sherlock into trouble or upset him, on the contrary. He wanted to help him, to comfort him. To be his friend.

John sighed and backed away a little. "Look," he began. "I don't want to get you into trouble or anything. I want to work with you and be your friend if you let me. But last week was… It has been…" he searched for the right words, but Sherlock interrupted him.

"Not good?"

John let out a surprised chuckle. "Bit not good, yeah."

When John saw Sherlock's mouth curl up in a smile, he couldn't help but to smile as well. And before they knew it, they were both laughing together for the first time in over a week and John was happy to notice that all of the doubts he had and all of the anger he felt the last week was completely gone. Everything was going to be fine.

"Seriously though," John started after they stopped laughing. "why did you try to push me away?"

Sherlock's face grew more serious. He backed away from the wall and straightened his jacket. "When I was young, my brother thought me that caring is not an advantage and I lived by that motto since."

"That's horrible."

Sherlock nodded. "I'm starting to believe he was wrong, though." With that, he had decided he told John enough and started to walk away.

"Hold on," John said before Sherlock could leave the supply closet. "You care about me?"

Sherlock stood still with the doorknob in his hand. Although he didn't turn around, John could hear the smile underneath his voice.

"More than I like to admit."


	7. Gasoline

_A/N: You know, when you say life had been crazy but you think you figured it out... it's going to bit you in the ass. Big time. But I don't have anything to complain about as long as everyone I care about is save and in good health. I hope you all are doing fine! Crazy times, right? It feels incredibly strange to be sitting at home while I should be teaching instead. __Please leave a comment behind! I love to hear from you guys. Stay save!_

**Gasoline**

Noun.

a volatile flammable liquid hydrocarbon mixture used as a fuel especially for internal combustion engines and usually blended from several products of natural gas and petroleum

* * *

"Good morning Mrs. Hudson, how are you doing today?" Sherlock asked in a perky tone when he and John entered the school on Wednesday morning and John couldn't hold his chuckle. It wasn't every day that he got to see Sherlock this cheerful.

"I'm fine dear," Mrs. Hudson replied and gave Sherlock a warm smile. "You are in an incredibly good mood lately."

Sherlock shrugged. "What can I say, I'm just happy we have next week off. Love to chat, but I have a class to prepare. Coffee in half an hour, John!" With that, Sherlock dashed through the doors, leaving John standing in the middle of the hallway.

Mrs. Hudson laughed. "You really have quite an influence on him, John. I've never seen him like this."

John felt a blush creep up his cheeks. He knew she was right. Ever since their altercation during the last staff meeting and the confrontation afterward in the supply closet, he and Sherlock had become much closer than it had been in the first couple of weeks. It felt like they were completely in sync. They were on the same page about almost everything, knew what the other thought without saying a word and even finished each other's' sentences once or twice. And apparently, it didn't go unnoticed by their colleagues.  
One of the things he and Sherlock picked up doing in the last couple of weeks, was meeting up before the day began when they both had to work at Bart's. They both agreed to come in early so that they had the time to catch up and drink a cup of coffee together. At first, John thought it would be so they could align with each other, but it seemed that Sherlock had other intentions. He just wanted to get to know John, to have a friendly chat with him. And that interest made John's heart leap in his chest and his cheeks burn.

"What can I say," John answered, still with a smile on his face. "It just works."

Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "You don't give yourself much credit, do you? I don't think you realize what a relief it is to see him like this."

"Ta, Mrs. Hudson. I'm sure he's just happy Autumn break is coming up."

"Oh John before I forget," Mrs. Hudson called after him. "Just a quick reminder that you have to send me the schedule the parent-teacher conferences of year four. I need them by the end of the day. Sherlock said you were in charge of those?"

John stopped dead in his tracks. "What?"

"The schedule for the parent-teacher conferences? Today's the 17th. " Mrs. Hudson repeated.

John turned around and looked at the receptionist with big eyes. It took a couple of seconds before he knew what she was talking about, but then it clicked. "I didn't realize today was the 17th," he mumbled softly.

"Oh dear, you don't have them?"

John shook his head, ran his hand through his hair and groaned. "Sherlock is going to kill me."

"That's what you're concerned about? Not about Lestrade?" Mrs. Hudson chuckled and John shot her a look. "Yeah, maybe you do have a point," she laughed.

"I can make them tonight. I have to cancel an appointment, but that's no pro-"

Mrs. Hudson interrupted him. "That's not necessary dear, I'll take care of it."

John blinked at her. "What?"

"I'll schedule your parent-teacher conferences. Just this once dear, I'm not your personal assistant."

John swore he could kiss her right now. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Hudson!" And with that, he turned around, almost feeling as cheerful as Sherlock did.

* * *

After year six, the fifth year students entered the gymnasium. John stood opposite them, waiting for the group to be quiet so he could check the students' presence. He counted, but he was sure he missed a couple of kids. He counted again but got interrupted by a girl who raised her hand.

"Mr. John? Mr. Philip gave Charly's group permission to work on their science project so they aren't here."

John nodded and felt a little irritated. It was the third time in a row Anderson had allowed students to skip his P.E. classes. Normally it wouldn't be that big of a deal, but with the school reports coming up he had to grade everyone.

"All right then," he called after he noted the absentees. "Let's start with a brief warming-up. After that, we are going to divide the class into different teams which will compete in an old-fashioned game of basketball."

The group started running and after a couple of minutes, John called them back together to make teams. He was in the middle of counting when he got interrupted by the incredibly loud whooping noise of the fire alarm. The class started to chat right away, some kids were holding their ears against the sound, some were panicking a little.

"Everybody, listen up!" John yelled as loud as he could, desperately trying to remember what to do in a situation like this. "There is no need to panic! Find your fire buddy and form a line at the door, please. It's probably just a drill, nothing to worry about!"

But John knew it wasn't a drill, otherwise, he would know about it. Suddenly, he started to worry about his own class. What if they got stuck somewhere? What if Sherlock couldn't get out in time? He took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts out of his head. He had the responsibility to get these kids outside. His own class would come later.

He walked to the door and waited for the class to form a proper line. "Remember, try to keep as calm as possible. Everything will be all right."

Luckily, there was no sign of fire or smoke in the hallway. The path to the nearest fire-exit was short and in no time John got the class out of the building. Once outside, he looked around to see if he could find any other classes. He spotted the class of Janine on the opposite side of the road and walked over there with his class.

"You did great kids, just wait here on further instructions," John said once the class stood at the right place. Other classes came walking outside the building and John let out a breath when he saw that his own class, including Sherlock, got out as well.

Soon, the whole parking lot was filled with kids and it took only seconds before everyone knew what was going on. It seemed that the plugs had blown in the old part of the school building, causing a short circuit and thus causing a fire. Luckily there were no classrooms situated there, which was a relief.

When Anderson spotted John he walked straight to him and took over his own class, leaving John standing on the parking lot with nothing to do. For a brief moment he thought of checking up on his own class, but he decided he would probably be more useful if he would offer his help to Lestrade.

It took John a moment to find Lestrade, who was standing around the corner looking at the fire together with Sarah, who apparently was one of the emergency response officers. She was on the phone with the fire department when John walked towards them.

"I'm not responsible for a class, is there something I can do to help?" he asked, looking from the principal to Sarah.

Lestrade was visibly relieved that someone offered to help. "Yes, you're just the man I need. We are terribly short-handed. Could you check if everyone has counted their classes and if they are complete?"

"Of course, I'm on it."

John turned around and walked back towards the crowd of kids. Suddenly, he felt a little anxious. What if kids were missing? Or if kids were panicking? He shook his head. This wasn't the moment to let the kids see his own fear. He had to be brave, otherwise, there would be even more panic. He just hoped that the rest of the staff could act the same way.

First, he checked in with Ella, who seemed to have everything under control. She wasn't missing any kids which was a relief, because the smallest children were the hardest to manage in a situation like this.  
The kids from year one and two were a little upset, but Janine and Mary were doing the best they could. They had put their kids together so they were able to calm down some kids and still keep an eye on the rest of them.

When John arrived at year three though, it became clear that not everyone was able to deal with the situation. Molly was trying her best, but between trying to calm down two girls and yelling at tree boys who were running around, she had forgotten to count her class.

"I'm so sorry John," Molly called out from the group. "I didn't get the change," she apologized.

"It's okay. How many kids do you have?"

"twenty-four."

John counted, recounted and came to the conclusion that the class was complete. He quickly moved on to the next class, which was his own. Of course, Sherlock had the group perfectly under control. He had asked them to sit down and was chatting with a couple of kids in front of him. When he saw John arrive, he stood up.

"We're complete," Sherlock said at once. John glanced over the group of kids and came to the same conclusion. He gave the kids a reassuring smile before he turned to continue to year five, but Sherlock stopped him. "Is everything all right?"

To anyone who would hear the question, it would sound like Sherlock just was checking if the situation was under control, but John knew better. Although it was well hidden, he could hear the slight tone of concern in Sherlock's voice. He was checking up on john, making sure he was okay.

John gave Sherlock a small nod. "Yes, here?"

Some of the tension in Sherlock's face faded. "Yes," he replied softly.

For a moment, John hesitated. He suddenly didn't want to leave Sherlock behind. He felt the urge to stay by his side to make sure everything was going to be okay, that Sherlock would be okay. But he knew he had to continue. "I, uhm… I got to-"

"Yes, go," Sherlock interrupted him.

John turned around to continue to Anderson, leaving Sherlock and his class behind. To his surprise, Anderson wasn't paying attention to his class, but looking at his phone.

"Are you complete, Philip?" John tried when he arrived, but he got no response. He tried again. "Anderson! Are you complete?"

Anderson finally looked up from his phone. "What? Of course, we are complete," he snapped.

John couldn't help but question this. "Are you sure? Did you count?"

"I don't need to," Anderson replied without looking up from the screen. "I know who's in my class. And I'm sure you counted before you handed them to me."

John sighed and decided it wasn't worth the effort. He had, in fact, counted the class before they had started the P.E. lesson and had noted the absent ones. Besides, it wasn't his responsibility.

He quickly walked over to Mike, who was also complete, before walking back to the other side of the building to find Lestrade and Sarah looking at the burning building.

"Everyone confirmed that their class was complete. Most of our colleagues seem to have the situation under control." He reported back to Lestrade.

"Good, that's good. Now, all we can do is wait. Thanks for the help, John." He clapped John on the shoulder.

John felt his nerves cool down a bit and smiled at the principal. "No problem. I'm just glad everyone's okay."

"Oh god."

It took John a moment to register the soft gasp. He turned around and looked at Sarah, who was as white as a cloth, her eyes big and full of fear. She looked like she had seen a ghost. "Sarah? What's wrong?" John tried, but she didn't reply. He followed her gaze to the burning building and searched for the thing that was upsetting her so much.

And then he saw it too.

There, in the window of the far corner of the second floor stood two children, were screaming and banging on the windows, desperately trying to get someone's attention.

A rush of shock went through John's body. This could not be happening. He made sure everyone had counted and checked their students. Twice. How on earth could this be possible?

It took only two seconds before Lestrade turned around as well, and one second to realize what the situation was. "Shit, who's kids are those?" he hissed. "Who didn't count correctly?"

John knew the answer in a flash. Those kids were Charly and Kyle, two of the students from year 5 who he had missed in P.E. His first reaction was to tell Lestrade, but he realized it didn't matter. What mattered was that those kids were in danger and someone had to do something. He looked around to see if anyone was getting ready to act on it, but both Sarah and Lestrade seemed petrified. He looked up to the window again. Someone needed to get inside to help them, fast.

"We need to do something," Sarah said softly, her effort to not let her emotions get the upper hand clear in her voice.

"The fire brigade is on its way, we can't do anything." Lestrade ran his hands across his face. "We're lucky no kids are facing this side of the building. The fire isn't on the second floor, so they are not in immediate danger. The best thing we can do is wait."

John didn't listen. From across the crowd of kids, he checked to see if his own class was okay. He was glad to see that Sherlock had everything under control. At that moment, Sherlock into the direction of Sarah, Lestrade, and John. Of course, he noticed something was going on immediately. His eyes shot up to the second floor for a second and John saw the realization hitting his face. For a brief moment, their eyes met. It was the look of utter worry in Sherlock's eyes that pushed John over the edge.

He made his decision, turned and started running.

"John, don't!" he heard behind him and faintly registered that it was Sherlock who was yelling, but it didn't stop him.

He ran inside anyway. 


	8. Hero

_A/N: Hey there. Yes, another chapter! And a big one, at that! Please know that I absolutely love to hear from you, so pretty please do! I hope you all are safe and sound :) _

**Hero**

Noun.

a person who is admired for their courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities.

* * *

It felt like the ground was swept from under his feet. Like he was punched in the gut, was held against his will, was being suffocated. He couldn't move, his legs felt like led. A loud buzzing took over his hearing. He felt sick. A wave of nausea hit him and it felt like he couldn't breathe properly. Was this what a panic attack felt like? He wasn't sure.

Sherlock's eyes roamed over the parking lot, not sure what he was looking for. He searched for some companionship, for someone who noticed what was going on. But everyone was busy. Some of his colleagues did seem to mention what just happened and were trying to keep their class calm. Others were a little slow on the situation and were searching for what caused the commotion. He didn't care. The only person he could think of was John.

Looking at the building, Sherlock quickly calculated the risks. The fire was at the old part of the building, which meant John could go up to save. But the fire would spread quickly so it would block their way down once he would get hold of the students. He needed to get another way down, but that would mean he would jump out of the window, which he wouldn't do with the students. So Sherlock could only conclude John would try to get past the fire, but that would only work if he somehow managed to block it or put it out. He probably didn't know where the fire extinguishers hang because he was new, so the odds of putting some of the fire out weren't high.  
His best outcome would probably be to be very quick so they would be downstairs before the fire started to spread. But there would be a reason why the students didn't come down in the first place. Maybe someone got scared or had trouble breathing. John would need to apply some first aid or calm them down before he could transfer them. That would take too long.

Sherlock went over it again and again, searching for a possible way, a loophole which would get John and those kids out of that building safe and sound. But he couldn't think of anything. That was when he was struck by a horrid thought.

What if he would lose John?

A hand on his forearm brought Sherlock back to his senses before he could start to panic. Mrs Hudson stood in front of him, her face full of worry and pity.

"Sherlock dear, did you hear me?" she asked and Sherlock realized she must've been talking to him for maybe a minute now.

He couldn't answer. His throat felt incredibly dry. He tried to compose himself, but he was not able to shake the panic that he felt.

"all right, you need to snap out of this. I know you're probably thinking about all kinds of things right now, but it's no good." Mrs Hudson tried in a calm voice. "Come on, take a deep breath."

Sherlock did as he was told and felt himself fall back into reality. He closed his eyes for a second as he took another deep breath. She was right, of course, she was. John was being a hero, trying to get those kids out alive. And here he was, being a coward who couldn't keep his act together. This was no use, he needed to do something, needed to control the situation.

"Thank you," Sherlock managed to say.

"No problem dear. I will stay close, just in case. If you need to check what the situation is, I can watch your class. Whatever you need."

Sherlock nodded. He braced himself, took one last deep breath and turned over to walk to principal Lestrade.

* * *

Once John was inside the building, he took a second to consider his options. The only way to go up to the second floor was to take the stairs at the far end of the corridor. That way, he would arrive almost opposite the classroom where the students were located. But it was risky, the stairs were near the old part where the fire had started and John had absolutely no idea how far the fire had spread.

There were risks, he knew that. But he couldn't back out now. He had to be careful and stay calm. He had to be brave. The fact that he had learned how to deal with a crisis during his stay in Afghanistan somehow was a very comforting thought. He had learned what to do in a fire and could apply first aid if necessary. Besides, knew that from all his colleagues, he was the most qualified to deal with this.

John started running through the corridor, his senses in overdrive, adrenalin rushing through his system. He knew he had to be on top of his game. One mistake and he would have to face the consequences.

When he arrived at the door that went to the staircase, he kneeled to check if he could open the door safely. He placed the back of his hand against the top and sides of the door to check for heat. Luckily, the door didn't feel hot. He leaned with his shoulder against the door and opened it slowly. The moment he got through the door, he started running up the stairs to the second floor and checked the next door he came across just to be save. After that, he rushed to the classroom where he had seen the students.

John opened the door and Charly and Kyle came rushing to him immediately. They started talking right away. "Oh thank God," Charly exclaimed. "You've got to help us, Mr John!"

"We heard the alarm and wanted to go downstairs, but Alice tripped and fell and hit her head against the table," Kyle spoke quickly.

"We didn't know what to do. We know we had to go downstairs but we couldn't leave her, so we started yelling and banging on the windows," Charly added and John saw tears prickle in the corners of her eyes. "Please don't be mad."

John felt his heart ache a little. He knelt on the floor and put his hands on the shoulders of the boy and girl opposite him. "Of course we're not mad. You did the right thing." He gave them a small, reassuring smile before he continued. "Where's Alice now?"

Kyle and Charly turned instantly and walked to the other end of the classroom. Alice lay on her side, still unconscious. There was some blood on the floor, probably from where she had hit her head.

John knelt by her body and felt her pulse. A fit of relief went through his body once he felt the steady thump of her heart against his fingers. He quickly weighed his options. He needed to make sure he wouldn't do more harm if he wanted to move the girl. But that would mean Charly and Kyle would have to wait minutes before they could start on exiting the building and he didn't want to risk their lives too. He made a decision.

Behind him, he heard the footsteps of the two kids. "Is she going to be all right?" Charly asked.

John turned around on his heels and took a breath. "She will be. But first, I need you guys to do something, okay?" He waited for Charly and Kyle to nod. "I need you to get out of here. The stairs are safe for now, so if you go quickly you can get downstairs. The fire is in the old part of the building, so you should be fine if you go through the main entrance. Once you are out, you need to find principal Lestrade and tell him that he needs to call an ambulance, okay?"

Charly nodded, but Kyle hesitated. "But what about you? Aren't you coming with us?"

John shook his head. "I'll make sure Alice is okay and carry her downstairs. But you guys are a lot faster without me, so I need you to go ahead of us. Don't worry, we will be fine."

Kyle let out a sigh and made up his mind. "Okay," he said with a firm nod. "Let's go Charly."

John turned around to face Alice again and closed his eyes for a second to keep his nerves under control. When he heard the click of the door falling shut, he opened his eyes again. "Okay Alice, it's just you and me now. Let's get you out of this." And with that, he started to check what he was dealing with.

* * *

"Lestrade!" Sherlock bellowed in his deep voice while he walked towards the principal. "Tell me you have heard something from John." But he knew the answer before Lestrade spoke.

The principal looked at Sherlock for a moment, as if he was weighing what to say. He decided to give an honest answer. "No, we didn't."

"It is taking too long. He's been in there for minutes, they should be out by now."

"I know," Lestrade said and ran his hands across his face. He couldn't keep the slight tremble out of his voice. "The fire brigade should arrive in a minute. Sarah called immediately after John entered the building to say the situation has changed so they are prepared."

Sherlock nodded, his eyes avoiding Lestrade's. He didn't want the principal to know he was barely holding it together. He took a deep breath and allowed the mask he so often wore to glide into place again.

The sound of sirens filled the air. It was a welcome sound, the sound of relief, of help. In a moment, there would be professionals who were taking care of the situation. They would search for a way to put the fire out and above all, they would get someone inside as fast as possible.

Everyone looked at how the firetrucks stopped in front of the school and how the firefighters exited the vehicle. One of them walked straight over to Lestrade, Sherlock and Sarah. He started talking to Lestrade and Sarah immediately, trying to get an update on the situation as fast as possible.  
Sherlock listened if there was some new information, but there was nothing he hadn't deduced already. Without really noticing he glanced towards the entrance, something he had been doing since John went inside every couple of seconds. But this time, his eyes lingered on something. It took him less than a second to realize that was he saw. There was movement at the entrance.

"Someone's coming."

The door of the main entrance swung open and the two kids ran outside and immediately ran towards Lestrade and the rest of the small group that stood around him and before Sherlock knew it, he was walking towards them. It was clear to him that someone gave them instructions on what they should do when they got out, and only one person could've done that. A rush of relief went through his body. That meant that John still was ok.

Sherlock kneeled before the two kids and gave them a brief moment to catch their breaths. "Are you two all right?"

Charly nodded. "Yes."

"Are you sure? Did you inhale any smoke?" asked Lestrade who came to stand next to Sherlock together with the fire-fighter.

Kyle shook his head in answer. "We didn't see any fire. There was some smoke at the bottom of the stairs, but we ran very fast."

"Mr John told us to tell you that you needed to call an ambulance," Charly added. "He's with Alice, she hit her head."

Sherlock looked up at Lestrade and saw the concerned look he and the fire-fighter exchanged and he knew what they thought. This wasn't good news.

The fire-fighter sprang into action. "Okay, we need to act quickly. Peterson! Make sure three ambulances get here, stat," Sherlock heard him say while he watched the man walk away.

"Will Alice and Mr John be okay?"

Kyle's voice made Sherlock snap out of his thoughts. He looked at the boy, fear written all over his face. "Of course," he said quietly, trying to hide the slight quiver in his voice. "Listen, you two were very brave today. They will probably want to check if you are okay once the ambulances are here, just to be sure." Sherlock waited for Charly and Kyle to nod and gave them a small smile. "I'm sure Mr John will do his very best to make sure Alice is going to be fine. Come on, let's find Mr Philip so he can call your parents, yeah?"

Sherlock stood up and put his hands on the kids' shoulders. When he walked passed Lestrade, they shared a look. Lestrade gave him a small nod in understanding and that was enough for Sherlock to know he would do everything he could, which was one of the most comforting thoughts Sherlock had since John entered the burning building.

* * *

John sat on his knees and looked more closely at the girl in front of him and tried to recall what he had learned during his first-aid course. He knew he had to check her breathing and pulse regularly, and that he had to check for other injuries.  
After quickly checking Alice's vitals again, he brushed her hair away from her face and saw immediately where she had hit her head. Luckily there was only a small head wound, but the large bump on her forehead was clearly visible. He looked for other injuries, but he couldn't find any.

John glanced up at the clock, quickly calculating how long Charly and Kyle were gone. Three minutes, which meant that they should be safely outside and told Lestrade to get an ambulance. The fire brigade should've arrived as well to take care of the situation.

He was running out of time, he knew that. The fire would spread and if the staircase would fill up with smoke, there would be no way out.

"Okay Alice," John said softly. "I think it's time for us to get out of here."

Before he tried to pick the girl up, he looked around the classroom, searching for something. If the situation on the ground floor had changed and the fire would've spread, he would want to prevent that Alice would inhale smoke. He could protect her from the fire shielding her, but he needed some fabric he could use as a mask.

Opening the cabinet under the sink, John found an old towel. He folded it and put it loosely around Alice's mouth and nose. It wasn't the best solution, but it had to do. He scooped one arm under her shoulders and one arm under her knees and picked her up in one swift move. She was a bit heavier than he anticipated, but nothing he couldn't carry.

There was no sign of smoke or fire in the hall so John walked towards the staircase. Once he opened the door, he knew he was too late. The smell of smoke ran up his nose and he had to do his best to avoid coughing. His instinct told him to go back, to search for another way to get out. But he knew that he would not find it. The only way out was by going down.

John shifted Alice slightly so her face would rest in the crook of his upper arm, trying to protect her as much as possible. He started his descend, one step at a time as he tried to keep his balance. His eyes started to sting and he tried to blink away the tears that were forming.

Halfway down, John was able to get a better view of the situation. There was no fire yet, which was a relief. But there was a lot of smoke building up at the end of the staircase. He tried to ignore the quick hammering of his heart as he took a deep breath and continued walking down.

The closer John got to the end of the stairs, the more trouble he had seeing where he was going and trying to keep himself from coughing and inhaling smoke. But he should be almost there, just a couple of more steps…

"Shit!"

A sharp pain shot through John's ankle and he almost stumbled and fell. The breath he was holding rushed out of his lungs and he started coughing immediately. He tried to breathe through his nose, but that only made it worse. The step he tried to take made him yell out in pain, but he knew he had to keep going. They were almost there, almost at the door. After another two painful steps, he hit the door and tried to reach the door handle. He opened it and tumbled out of the staircase, coughing violently.

"They're out!" John heard someone say and before he knew it, Alice was lifted from his arms by someone and he felt another person's arm against his chest, preventing him from falling.

John didn't register what happened next, and frankly, he didn't care. Alice was safe, and that was what mattered.

* * *

"You are a hero, you know that right?" Lestrade told John and patted him on the shoulder. John lay on a gurney, ready to get to the hospital. He didn't know what to say, so he just shrugged.

"I'm serious John, those kids would not have stood a chance if it weren't for y-."

Lestrade didn't get the change to finish his sentence. Once Sherlock got sight of John, he came rushing towards the ambulance. "What on earth were you thinking!" he yelled and pushed Lestrade aside. "How could you be so incredibly stupid? Do you have any idea what could've happened? How many bad outcomes there were?"

For a second, John looked at his friend in surprise. He waited for Sherlock to continue but then realized he actually was waiting on an answer. "Four?" he answered and tried to suppress a grin. Sherlock overreacting was actually kind of cute.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at him and continued his yelling. "Six, but that's not the point. You could have died! What's gotten into you, bursting inside like some superhero. You do have a responsibility, you know?"

John noticed Sherlock was shaking a little and felt a bit guilty. Sherlock had been scared and this was his way to let it all out. He couldn't blame him. If the roles were reversed, he would probably have stormed right after the man into the burning building as well.

"Sherlock relax," John tried in a calm voice, hoping it would calm Sherlock down a bit. "I'm fine."

"You are not fine, otherwise you wouldn't be on a gurney on your way to the hospital!"

John gestured at his leg and shrugged. "It's just a sprain, no big deal." He tried to suppress a cough and Sherlock shot him a look. "Alright, maybe I inhaled some smoke as well. But they're just going to do an X-ray and check me over. I'll probably be at home by the end of the day."

"Oh, you don't know that. For all you know, there is something worse going on inside your body. Do you know what smoke inhalation can do to your lungs?" Sherlock raised his voice again and started to get angry with John. "You realize we could've lost you, right? You would have traumatized our kids with your stupidity! They could have lost their teacher, John!"

"Alright, you need to calm down, Sherlock," John said firmly. "I know I scared you, but I'm going to be fine. Please, lower your voice."

This only got Sherlock angrier. "Don't tell me to lower my voice, you deserve a lot more yelling! You are a complete and utter idiot, John Watson. You know, when I got out of bed this morning I didn't plan on almost losing someone I lo-," Sherlock stopped abruptly, realizing what he was about to say. His eyes went wide with shock. "Like. I mean like. As a friend, that is," he mumbled in a desperate attempt to compose himself, but he knew John had heard him loud and clear by the look on his face.

John suddenly felt his heart racing inside his chest. He felt shock running through his body, but there was something else too… Anticipation? Hope? He started to doubt his hearing. He did hear it right, right?

Before John could ask about it, he felt his gurney move. "We're ready to go, Mr Watson," one of the paramedics said and pushed the gurney from the breaks.

"I… Uhm," his throat suddenly felt very dry. He didn't want to go. He wanted to hear what Sherlock had to say. He looked at Sherlock with questioning eyes, but Sherlock was avoiding his gaze and was staring at the floor. "Alright," John said and tried to give Sherlock another second in the hope he would speak up, but it was no use. "Let's go."

The paramedics wheeled John inside the ambulance and the doors closed, leaving Sherlock standing there nailed to the ground. Lestrade came to stand next to him and watched how the ambulance drove off.

"Love you as a friend, huh?" he asked seconds later, the smirk on his face clearly audible in his voice.

"Shut up."


	9. Imagine

_A/N: YAY! :D 3 Oh, can you believe it? They're finally here! It took me some days to write this chapter and I can't wait to hear what you guys think! I hope you're still safe! 3_

**Imagine**

_Verb_

To form a picture in your mind of what something might be like

* * *

After the Autumn break, St. Bartholomew's state school was ready to open its doors again. The damage of the fire was limited to the old part of the building and the stairwell. With some effort, a bunch of handymen were able to fix the staircase in time, so they didn't have to keep the school closed. The old part of the building was another thing, but luckily there weren't any classrooms located there.

Sherlock couldn't be happier when he got the news. He had been bored during this break. Out-of-his-mind, laying-on-the-couch-for-days, shooting-up-the-walls bored. He and John had prepared all of the upcoming lessons before the break started so they could have a decent couple of days off. He had tried to do some research, read up on some articles, and read four books in two days. He even tried to follow a series on Netflix which John had recommended. There was nothing that could keep his mind occupied. The only thing he could think of was his partner.

He had wanted to contact John so many times he lost count. He had typed numerous texts, which he deleted every time, and had been hovering over the call button for mere hours. But every time he wanted to call, he couldn't bring himself to it. Not after his almost-love-declaration. What could someone possibly say after that?

At first, Sherlock had the hope John would reach out to him to let him know he was okay. But as the days went by, Sherlock lost his confidence. On Wednesday, he got angry with John. Because what kind of decent human being wouldn't let his friend know how he was doing after a crisis like that? But Sherlock had reminded himself once again that he probably had scared John off.

On Thursday, Sherlock had wanted to visit John. He had walked to his apartment, almost walked up to his door, but hesitated. What had he been thinking? He couldn't just knock on John's door and pretend as nothing had happened. He owed John an explanation. Maybe he could ignore the whole thing, act as nothing had happened. Or he could pass it on the crisis, could tell him that he hadn't been thinking straight. Then they could dismiss it as if it hadn't been a big deal, laugh about it and continued their friendship.

But deep down, Sherlock knew that was not what he wanted. He wanted to tell John how he felt, that he liked him, cared for him and wanted to be with him. And not just in a friendly way, but in a more romantic way. If John was amenable, of course. But Sherlock did not have all the facts and to ask John how he felt about him was simply out of the question.

So Sherlock had done the only right thing to do; he had turned around and walked back home where he had landed on the sofa to sulk for days.

When Monday finally came, Sherlock decided to go to Bart's to see how things were going. He knew John had to teach that day. Maybe it was better to see him again at work. That way, they had something to talk about, and Sherlock could avoid some more personal subjects. He even thought of going to the teachers' meeting that Lestrade had scheduled for later that day.

Sherlock got out of bed early, took a quick shower and walked to the kitchen in his dressing-gown, where he made a cup of tea. He was about to sit down and read the newspaper when his phone went off.

"Yes, Lestrade?"

"Hey, sorry to call you so early, but I was hoping you could come in today."

Sherlock snorted. "Absolutely not."

"Sherlock," Lestrade warned.

"No. Try all you want, But I'm going to fill in for somebody else because someone neglected to get his flu shot."

"Listen, I know you hate it when I ask you this late, but it's your own class. John can't make it. You know I normally would call in a substitute, but with the fire and everything going on I thought you wouldn't appreciate it if I let someone else run your class."

Sherlock went silent. John wasn't coming back to work yet, which meant something was wrong. He wouldn't call in sick if it weren't absolutely necessary. John loved his job too much for that.

"Sherlock?"

"Is he all right?"

"Who? John? He's fine mate, didn't he tell you?"

"I haven't spoken to him yet," Sherlock mumbled.

"There's nothing to worry about. His injuries were a little more severe, and they kept for observation overnight, but other than that, he's okay. He probably just wants to rest some more before coming back to work. Now, will you come in?"

"Yes, fine," Sherlock answered dismissively. "I will be there in an hour."

He heard Lestrade let out a relieved sigh. "Thanks, Sherlock. And drop by at John's afterwards, yeah?"

Sherlock didn't reply and hung up. Maybe Lestrade was right. Perhaps he should drop by after school to see how John was doing. And maybe, he found the courage to talk to him.

* * *

John had not anticipated staying overnight when he got wheeled into the hospital. He had told the paramedics, doctors and nurses repeatably that he was fine, but apparently, they took smoke inhalation very serious. They insisted on keeping him for observation.

To top things off, one of the nurses had called his emergency contact, which meant that not only he had to deal with his ankle and his shortness of breath, but also with his sister for the next couple of days.

In the end, John was happy Harry came. Once he got home, he noticed how sore and tired he was. He didn't want to acknowledge it, but maybe he had underestimated his situation just a little bit. So he let Harry take care of him so he could rest and let his body heal.

John was doing better and better every day. By the end of the week, he was well-rested; his lungs stopped protesting, and he was able to walk around a bit without too much pain. He and Harry were spending more time together, and he was happy to notice that her company wasn't that bad. Actually, it made him decide to take a couple of more days off so he could spend a little more time with her.

So on Monday afternoon, John was reading a book while Harry was upstairs taking a shower when the doorbell rang. He walked towards the door and couldn't suppress his smile when he saw the outline of the tall man with messy curls through the window of his front door. He already had questioned how long it would take for Sherlock to come over. John had wanted to text or call him but thought it would be best to let Sherlock reach out to him instead of scaring him off. "Hey stranger," he said when he opened it.

"Hello John," Sherlock said in his low baritone, unable to meet John's eye. He felt his nerves spike.

"Haven't heard from you in a while. What brings you here?"

Sherlock glanced up to John briefly but looked down right away. "I uh…I wanted to see how you were doing," he said in a smaller voice than he anticipated.

John chuckled. "I'm fine."

Sherlock desperately thought of something to say. Usually, he was mister punch-line and knew what to say in every possible situation. So how was it that he wasn't able to form a proper sentence? He kept glancing downward, afraid to look at John directly. If he did, John would certainly know why he was here, and he couldn't have that. He shifted a little on his feet, unable to shake his nerves. He knew he had to say something. "You weren't at school today."

"No, I took some days off," John simply answered. Sorry, I meant to text you."

"Ah."

"Sherlock?" John said after a moment.

Sherlock hesitantly looked up and met John's eyes for the first time. He regretted it immediately. John looked at him questioningly, and Sherlock was sure John was able to see right through him. He braced himself for John's reaction, but nothing came. Instead, he watched how John's face lit up and was greeted with a warm smile.

"Are you coming inside or do you want to stay hovering on my doorstep?" John asked and stepped aside as an invitation.

The nerves in Sherlock's stomach settled a little, and he walked inside. He walked behind John to the living room. Only then, Sherlock noticed he was limping slightly. "Your ankle was a little more serious than expected, hmm?" he asked.

John looked down at his foot and shrugged. "A small tear in one of my ligaments, but it's okay. It doesn't hurt that bad. Please, sit down. Tea?"

Before Sherlock could offer to take care of the tea, John walked towards the kitchen. Sherlock sat down in one of the chairs and watched him while John rumbled through the kitchen. He was surprisingly cheerful, Sherlock noticed. He had a small hint of a smile on his face almost constantly while he was making tea, and Sherlock wondered what caused it. He looked around. There was something different about John's apartment, something he couldn't quite place. His eyes lingered on the purse next to the sofa.

It took him a moment to realize it was a woman's purse.

Sherlock felt like someone punched him in the gut. If he could disappear right there and then, he would. He was an idiot. Here he was, finally having the courage to tell John how he felt, and now he was too late. John was seeing someone else. He had probably asked her to take care of him when he came out of the hospital. That was why John hadn't been texting him. And why would he? Sherlock was just his friend, nothing more.

When John came back from the kitchen with two cups of tea, Sherlock made up his mind. He really didn't want to be here. "I should go," he said and raised himself hastily from the chair.

"What? Why?" John asked, surprised.

"There's a woman in your apartment."

"Well, yes," John said, unable to suppress his grin. He really shouldn't be surprised that Sherlock deduced Harry was upstairs taking a shower. "How do you know?"

"It's obvious. There's a woman's coat on the coat rack and a purse next to your sofa. Your house usually smells fresh, cotton-like. But now there's a hint of perfume somewhere. Chanel, if I'm not mistaken. You keep glancing towards the stairs, so she's upstairs. Your pupils are slightly dilated, your heart rate elevated. The blush on your cheeks and your constant grinning tells me you're obviously smitten about her," Sherlock stated.

John didn't miss the accusing tone in his voice, but couldn't quite place it. What was Sherlock talking about?

Before John could ask what was going on, Sherlock turned away from him. "You should go upstairs. I don't want to keep you from her. I'll see you at Bart's," Sherlock mumbled and rushed out.

John sat in the middle of his living room and blinked. How did this go south so fast? One moment, they were chatting, maybe flirting even, and now Sherlock clearly was upset about something. He stood up, ignored the pain in his ankle and grabbed his keys. "Harry, I'm out!" he yelled and rushed out of his house after Sherlock, who was already halfway down the street.

"Sherlock!" John yelled after him. But Sherlock kept walking and tried to ignore John. He knew it wasn't fair. John would not be able to keep up with him, but he didn't care. He wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.

"Sherlock, stop!" John tried again.

Sherlock swung around and glared at John. "Why?" He spat. "So you can introduce me to her? How adequate of you." He couldn't keep his anger from his voice.

John grabbed Sherlock's hand to keep him from walking any further. "Please, stop walking. You know I can't keep up with you right now. Let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain, John," Sherlock replied and jerked his hand free. "You like her, it's obvious. Now please let me leave before I humiliate myself some more."

Suddenly, it clicked. Sherlock didn't come to him just to check how he was doing. He came to talk. And John thought he had a pretty good idea what Sherlock wanted to tell him, which made his heart jump out of his chest. But then, he realized what Sherlock must've been thinking once he noticed Harry was around and John couldn't help himself. He started to giggle, and before he knew it, he was laughing hard, unable to stop.

"Oh, I'm glad you find it amusing," Sherlock spat venomously.

"Sherlock," John started and tried to get his laughter under control. He took a deep breath. That's Harry!" he explained, still with a broad smile on his face and waited until the penny dropped. But Sherlock just stood there with big, questioning eyes.

"You know, Harry?" John continued. "My sister? The one who gave me my phone?"

Sherlock frowned and shook his head, still not knowing what John was talking about. "I don't know to who you are ref-," he stopped mid-sentence, realization hitting him. Harry. Harriet Watson. John's sister. How could he possibly forget?

"Oh," was all he managed to say.

John chuckled and looked at the man in front of him. He was adorable like this; his cheeks slightly pinkened, clearly not realizing John felt the same about him. John decided it would be better to let Sherlock figure it out on his own rather than telling him. He stepped a little closer and gave him a daring look. "You were jealous?" he flirted.

"I… No," Sherlock replied, and John frowned and gave him a look. Of course, John wouldn't believe him. He felt his cheeks warm some more. "Yes. Maybe a little," he mumbled softly and looked down again.

"Sherlock," John took another step. "You have nothing to worry about."

"But your eyes, your heart rate… The grin on your face, the colour on your cheeks…"

"Yes?"

"They indicate you're attracted to someone."

John reached out and took Sherlock's hand in his. "I am."

Sherlock gasped at the feeling of John's skin against his. He looked down at their joined hands, unable to process what was happening. His mind went in circles. It was apparent John liked someone, but he couldn't figure out who it was. It couldn't be Harry, that would be insane. No, there had to be someone else, someone he missed. But he was sure that there was no one at the apartment except John and Harry. And himself, of course.

And then, it hit him.

Could it be that John was attracted to him? Liked him?

Sherlock looked up shyly at John through his lashes and was welcomed by two ocean-blue eyes and one of the most genuine, beautiful smiles John could give him.

They were close now, very close. John could feel Sherlock's unsteady breath against his own. He let his gaze linger down for a moment and licked his lips. "You know that you can be rather thick for someone who claims to be a genius, don't you?" he whispered. And with that, he closed the small gap between them.

From their first brush of lips, Sherlock was done. He couldn't' think anymore, couldn't focus. All he could think about was the feeling of John's lips against his. They felt soft and firm at the same time and feel absolutely fantastic. He had never thought kissing John would feel this exiting, this electrifying.

Sherlock suddenly reminded himself that he should do something and hesitantly placed his free hand on the back of John's head. John answered by reaching up to cup his cheek with his own free hand and pulled Sherlock a bit closer, deepening their kiss. Sherlock felt the soft brush of John's tongue against his lips. He realized it was a silent question, one he was only eager to answer. He opened his lips a bit and let his tongue touch John's, trying to capture his taste. He tasted like toothpaste and tea, fresh and spicy and uniquely _John_ and Sherlock loved it.

John broke the kiss with a final brush of lips and pulled back slightly. "Even better then I imagined," he whispered against Sherlock's lips.

"You imagined kissing me?" Sherlock replied in his low baritone, and he could feel the shiver that rushed through John's body.

"Oh, yes, among other things." John took the lapels of Sherlock's coat again and pulled him in for another kiss. It was nothing like the previous, chaste kiss they had shared moments before. This time, there barely was any hesitation left. The kiss was more deeply, more passionately, and Sherlock briefly wondered if every kiss he and John would ever share would feel unique.

John reached up with his hands and ran his fingers through Sherlock's dark curls. He didn't seem to mind that they were in the middle of the street, and Sherlock found he also couldn't care less. He wrapped his arms around John's waist and pulled his body against him, earning a gasp from John. Their mouths melted together once more, completely lost in sensation.

"John," Sherlock mumbled against his lips. He had to stop before he couldn't bring himself to it anymore. "Your sister."

"Hmm," John replied and took his opportunity to take Sherlock's bottom lip between his. He sucked softly, and Sherlock felt his knees go weak in anticipation. He couldn't help it but moan quietly into John's mouth. Jesus, this man was _dangerous_.

"John," Sherlock breathed.

John broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Sherlock's. "All right, all right," he replied, and Sherlock felt him smile against his lips. "You're probably right. But God, I would love to take you inside now."

"How long will your sister stay in town?"

"Until Wednesday, unfortunately."

Sherlock stepped back from John and straightened his coat in a desperate attempt to compose himself. "That's acceptable," he said. He gave John a small kiss before he turned and walked away from him with a broad grin on his face.

John just stood in the middle of the street and looked at how Sherlock walked away, unable to move yet. He tried to process what had happened, but all he could think of was the feeling of Sherlock's lips against his and the taste of Sherlock that lingered on his tongue. He had kissed Sherlock. And even better, Sherlock had kissed him back. They were finally done dancing around each other, finally able to come clean about their feelings. John liked Sherlock, and Sherlock clearly liked John as well. The realization made him feel utterly giddy with everything, and it was the best feeling in the world.

John decided he stared down the street long enough. He walked back to his apartment and was unable to hide his smile. He knew Harry would notice it too and he wouldn't hear the end of it, so he took a minute to compose himself.

He briefly thought about asking Sherlock to come over tonight, but that would mean he would have to introduce him to Harry. And he really didn't want to do that, not yet anyway. He would have to wait until Harry was out of town to see Sherlock again if he wanted to keep him a secret a little while longer.

When he was about to walk inside, he felt his phone vibrate. He took it out of his pocket and saw Sherlock had texted him.

_Wednesday evening. - SH_

John stared at the text. He knew what Sherlock was implying, but he decided it would be fun to tease him a little since he didn't ask anything.

_What's with Wednesday evening?_

He got a reply almost immediately.

_Please, John. Don't be an idiot. - SH_

_Hey! You just kissed this idiot, twice. And you still haven't told me what's with Wednesday evening. ;)_

This time, Sherlock didn't reply and John wondered for a moment if he had gone a bit too far. He quickly made work of his next text.

_Sherlock Holmes, would you like to go out on a date with me this Wednesday evening?_

He immediately got a response.

_Of course, John. That was what I was implying. - SH_

John laughed out loud at that.

_You git. I'll pick you up at 7. Wear something nice :)_


	10. Jitters

Chapter 10: Jitters

**Jitters**

_Plural noun._

A feeling of nervousness that you experience before something important happens.

* * *

"Well, don't you look all fancy? Are you so happy you're finally going to get rid of me you decided to dress up for the occasion?"

John closed the tap of the sink, took his towel to wipe off the remains of his shaving cream. He looked in the reflection of the mirror and saw Harry leaning against the door frame of his bathroom. She was giving him a daring look, and John knew his sister knew what was going on.

"Of course not," he shrugged, trying to avoid the conversation they were about to have. "I've got an appointment afterwards."

"An appointment?"

"Yes," he answered casually while putting on some aftershave.

Harry grinned and raised her eyebrows. She wasn't going to let him off the hook that quickly and John knew it. "Around dinnertime, eh? Don't lie to me, little brother. You are going on a date!"

"Maybe."

"Oh! You've got to tell me everything! Who's the lucky girl?"

John briefly considered lying about who he was going on a date with, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Harry would find out sooner or later, and it wasn't as if she didn't know he was attracted to both men and women. In fact, Harry had been the first person who John had asked for advice when he suspected he was bisexual when they were teenagers. It had felt so good to talk to her about this stuff back then, and her being a lesbian made everything even more natural.

This was a little different, though. He had had a couple of sexual encounters with men in the past, but his actual dating history consisted only of women. Sherlock was the first man who he would be dating, which made this uncharted territory. But, John decided, if there would be anyone who would act normal about it, it would be his sister.

"Well, actually…"

"Come on, Johnny. Don't be shy!" Harry encouraged him.

John gave his sister a shy smile. "Not a girl."

"Oh." Harry's grin fell, and surprise hit her as she realized what her brother meant. "You have a date with a bloke?" She said after a minute. A more severe tone replaced the playful one she had in her voice a moment before.

That wasn't the reaction John was hoping to get. "Don't act so surprised," he defended. "You know I'm…"

"Bisexual. Yes, of course," Harry said quickly. "But I've always figured your interest in men was more sexual than romantic. I thought you were shagging both, but that you would end up with a woman eventually. I never heard you say you were interested in dating men as well."

"Well, I wasn't. There's a first time for everything."

Harry seemed to consider this for a moment. "That's definitely true. And please, John, don't get me wrong. I'm happy for you, thrilled even! It just didn't occur to me, that's all," she explained, giving John an apologetic smile.

John chuckled. Even though she could be incredibly annoying, he couldn't be mad at his sister. Not for long, at least. "Ta, Harry. It's okay."

"So, tell me about him. What's he like? Where did you meet? What does he look like? I want to know what type of men my little brother likes!"

"Ugh, stop it." John groaned and walked past Harry to put on his shirt. Harry followed him and fell on his bed with a loud thump.

"Hey! Believe it or not, but this is me being interested in your love life."

"All right, all right. His name is Sherlock," John started. "He's around my age, maybe a couple of years younger. He's quite tall, taller than me,-"

"That's not that hard."

John let out a laugh. "Shut up. He has a head full of curls. Dark brown, almost black. He's slim; not in the skinny kind of way, but in an elegant way. And his eyes are beautiful. They seem to shift from grey to green to blue." He paused a moment to adjust the sleeves of his shirt, unable to look Harry in the eye. The thought of Sherlock made his stomach flip and his cheeks warm.

"He can be quite a challenge and a pretentious know-it-all, and he is not afraid to say what he thinks at all. He can be quite harsh and doesn't always have the best social skills, but once you get to know him, he's the most caring person you know. He's incredibly smart and has a very sharp eye for detail. Very resourceful and creative, too."

When he finished talking, John looked up at his sister, and she gave him one of her warm smiles. "Wow, you really like him, don't you?"

John smiled back at her. "Yeah, I do."

"And how did you two meet?'

"He's a colleague of mine."

"At your new school? That's going to be a challenge." Harry couldn't keep her concern out of her voice.

John waved it away. "We'll figure it out. Besides, let's not get ahead of things. We need to go on this date first, see how it goes from there."

"All right," Harry said as she propped up on her elbows, "I have one more question for you, the most important one. How good is this new lover between the sheets?"

"Harry!"

"What? I know you! You want to know what you're dealing with. So spill the tea, how's the sex?"

John was silent for a moment; the colour rising high to his cheeks as he bent down to tie his shoelaces. The thought of doing those things with Sherlock made his knees feel weak. "We haven't…"

"Oh my god. You are serious about him, then."

"I guess I am," John answered and couldn't suppress his smile. Harry was right; he was head over heels here.

"Please tell me you two at least made out already."

"That we did. He came by on Monday to check on me and-"

Harry gave a high-pitched squeak and clapped her hands. "Oh, I knew it! I knew something was going on when you came back all chirpy and smiley! You, John Watson, are a terrible brother for keeping that from your big sister! I can't believe I didn't get to see him! If only I came down a little bit earlier, I could have met your potential new boyfriend!"

"I'm not sure that would've gone well," John chuckled and looked at his watch. "Listen, we should go, I don't want you to have to hurry once you get to the station."

"Oh nonsense, you just want to go on your date."

"Maybe, but admitting that makes me a terrible brother," John grinned.

They were about to walk out of John's bedroom when John stopped for a final check in the mirror. His eyes roamed over his face. He still looked a bit tired, and his hair showed a little more grey than he wanted. Maybe it would be better to change his shirt, after all. The greyish-green shirt did bring out his eyes, but it didn't match as well with his shoes as he had hoped. Or maybe his whole outfit was too casual. He should wear a suit, make this a more formal occasion.

On the other hand, it was just dinner; not a classical concert or something. Would that have been better? John knew Sherlock liked classical music, so would going to a concert be a better fit? What if dinner was too casual, too ordinary for Sherlock? John wanted this to be the perfect date, not some dime-in-a-dozen date which he could have with anybody. Maybe he should step up his game, think of something more romantic. A gift, perhaps, or flowers. But that would be something he would do when he went out on a date with a woman.

"John?" Harry started, her voice warmer than before.

"Hmm?"

"Stop fidgeting. You have nothing to be nervous about. You always know how to be the perfect gentleman. Plus, you look absolutely amazing," Harry said softly. "It's been a long time since I've seen you this, so joyous and unguarded. I'm so happy for you. He's a lucky guy, this Sherlock."

John felt his nerves settle a bit. He knew she was right; it would play out eventually. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? "Thanks, Harry. That means a lot to me," he answered and put off the lights.

* * *

The cab ride to the train station was slightly shorter than anticipated, which meant John had some time to spare before he would pick up Sherlock. He had walked up to the platform together with Harry. She had wanted him to go so he would be in time for his date, but John insisted on a proper goodbye. When they arrived, Harry's train was already there. After a quick exchange of promises (John said he would visit her around Christmas; Harry promised to call him more often), they did something they rarely did: they hugged each other.

Now, John stood at the platform and watched how Harry's train left the station. He still had twenty minutes before he should find a cab and go towards Sherlock, so he decided to get a quick cup of coffee at the nearest coffee shop.

He was about to sit down when he saw a man glancing in his direction. For a second, he looked directly at John but looked away almost immediately. John decided not to dwell on it, took out his phone and sat down at the table. Sipping his coffee, he scrolled through some news articles on his phone, deliberately not thinking about his date with Sherlock.

He couldn't concentrate. At first, John thought it was because he felt slightly nervous, but there was something else too. For some reason, it felt like he was being watched. When John looked up again, he saw the man looking in his direction for the second time. This couldn't be a coincidence, right? Maybe it was someone he was supposed to recognize? But if that was the case, why didn't the man walk towards him to greet him?

Something felt off. John couldn't quite place it, but he started to feel a little uncomfortable under the gaze of this mysterious man. With a quick gulp, he drank the last of his coffee and decided it would be best to leave. He was supposed to go anyway.

But when he stood up, the man stood up as well. He saw how the man walked in his direction and then passed him without looking up. John was about to go after him when he saw that the man had left a note on his table. With a frown, he opened the note and read.

_I would like to have a little chat—Nothing to worry about. There's a limo waiting on you at the west entrance. I am aware that I cannot force you to cooperate, of course, but I think you would want to be on the same side with me if you consider continuing your interactions with Sherlock Holmes. _

John blinked. What? He looked around, but the man was nowhere to be found. Was this some kind of joke? He reread the note and contemplated his options. He could ignore everything, shake it off and walk away. But something in the note made it clear that it would indeed be best to be on the same side with this person. Maybe he should see what all this was about, see who wanted to talk to him. It would mean that he would be late for his date, but he could text Sherlock that something came up and he would be there as soon as he could from the car. He would understand.

With his decision made, John walked towards the west entrance. He immediately saw the man from earlier waiting at a black car. The man gave a small nod as a sign and opened the door to let John step inside the vehicle.

After a moment, the car started driving. John looked out of the window to see where he was going, but it was no use. He briefly wondered who this mysterious person he was about to meet could be, but he couldn't come up with an answer. Clearly, it was someone who knew Sherlock and who knew John had a connection with him, but he didn't get any further than that.

Abruptly, the car stopped, and the door on John's side swung open. He stepped outside and looked around to see where he was. The whole ride couldn't have taken more than a few minutes, but he couldn't recognize where he was. It seemed like some kind of industrial place, some construction site.

In the middle, there was a tall man dressed up in a fancy suit. He gave John a crooked smile. "Have a seat, John," he said as he pointed at the chair.

John ignored the invitation. "You know, I've got a phone," he said as he walked towards the man. "I mean, very clever and all that. But you could've just phone me. On my phone."

"When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock, one learns to be discreet. Your ankle must be hurting you. Please, sit down."

John looked at the man with a stern face. How on earth did he know about his ankle? "I don't want to sit down."

The man's eyes roamed over John for a moment before he continued. "You don't seem very afraid."

"You don't seem very frightening," John countered.

The man laughed. "Yes. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think?" His face fell. "What's your connection to Sherlock Holmes?"

"We're colleagues; he's my partner," John started. A quick look told him the man knew that already. "And we're… friends," he added cautiously.

"Hmm, and is that why you are taking him to Hills tonight? Are we to expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?"

John started to get an ominous feeling. How did this man know these things? "Who are you?"

"An interested party."

"interested in Sherlock? Why? I'm guessing you're not friends," John challenged.

"He doesn't have many friends," the man sighed. "I'm the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock has."

"And what's that?"

"An enemy."

"An enemy?"

"In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he'd probably say his archenemy. He does love to be dramatic."

John snorted. "Well, thank God you're above all that."

The man glared at John, but he ignored it. They looked at each other for a moment before John's phone buzzed. John briefly hesitated before he reached in his pocket; a wave of guilt ran through him as he realized he had forgotten to text Sherlock he would be late. He eyed at the screen.

_Where are you? Thought you would be here at 7? Or did I misunderstand and are we meeting somewhere else? – SH_

"Am I keeping you from your appointment at Hills?"

This time it was John's turn to glare at the man. He really knew how to work on people's nerves, didn't he?

"Do you plan to continue your relationship with Sherlock?" the man continued, avoiding John's glare.

John let out a hollow laugh. "I could be wrong, but I think that's none of your business."

"It could be."

"No, it really couldn't."

John looked at how the man reached inside his suit jacket and took out a cheque book. "If you keep an eye on him," the man began as he started to write some things down. "I would be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis, to… ease your way."

"Why?"

The man smiled his crooked smile again. "Because the salary of a teacher isn't quite… Satisfying."

"In exchange for… What?"

"Information," the man answered quickly. "Nothing indiscreet, Nothing you feel uncomfortable with. Just tell me how he's doing, what he's up to."

John's patience started to run thin. "Why?" he asked again.

The man's face fell again. "I worry about him. Constantly," he answered deliberately, and John couldn't miss the threatening tone in his voice.

"That's nice of you."

"I would prefer, for various reasons, that my concern went… unmentioned. We have what you might call a 'difficult relationship'."

Once again, John's phone interrupted the conversation at the right moment. John reached for his phone for the second time, this time with no hesitation.

_John, you are not backing out, are you? – SH_

Perfect. Not only was he late for his date, now Sherlock had started to worry if he would show up at all. The last thing he wanted was to give Sherlock any doubt about his intentions. He decided this had taken long enough.

"No."

"But I haven't mentioned a figure," the man stammered.

"Don't bother. Are we done?"

The man clearly wasn't pleased with John's answer. He straightened himself and looked down at John with a hard look. "You tell me."

John nodded. "I think so, yeah," he answered.

For a long moment, the man didn't do anything. He seemed to contemplate what to do next. Then, he looked over John's shoulder, nodded and gestured something. When John heard the engine of the car start again, he felt a little relieved. He greeted the man with a small nod, turned around and walked back towards the car. He could be wrong, but it certainly felt like he got the benefit of the doubt and that the man had given his permission to continue his interactions with Sherlock.

* * *

Sherlock sat on one of the bottom steps and was tapping nervously on his knee with his left hand. In his right, he had his phone, which he used to check the time every other minute. In the forty-one minutes, he sat there; his mind had made up every scenario, every reason and every excuse for why John was running shamefully late. But he only conclusion Sherlock had reached in the end was that John had made up his mind and didn't want to go on a date with him after all.

So now, Sherlock wanted a cigarette. If he was candid with himself, he maybe even wanted something else, but since that wasn't an option anymore, he wanted a smoke. And he was going to in three minutes because that meant it was a quarter to eight and that the time Sherlock had given John to show up, was up.

When he was about to get up and grab his pack of cigarettes though, Sherlock heard a knock on the door. A jolt of nerves ran through his body, followed by anticipation and after that, anger. Now what? He would have accepted the fact that John simply wasn't interested anymore. This was a whole new scenario he hadn't thought about. Did John still want to go? And did he still wanted to go himself?

He knew the answer to that almost instantly. Yes. Definitely, yes.

After another knock on the door, Sherlock got up and opened it with a swing, already opening his mouth to do some yelling. But when he got sight of John actually standing there, his voice was nowhere to be found. All he could do was stare. The view of John Watson standing there, looking incredibly hot with his slightly tousled hair and his stormy blue eyes, was enough to stop his tracks.

After a second, Sherlock realized John waited for him to say something. "You're late," was all he managed to say. It didn't sound like the intended snarl he had planned to give, but more of a statement.

"Yes, I know," John sighed. "I'm sorry about that. I got held up by someone, and I forgot to text you. I know it's a lame excuse and not a great start, but-"

"It's fine, John."

John blinked, unable to hide his surprise. "It really isn't, you know?"

"Maybe not, but it is what it is," Sherlock answered, trying to sound impassive. "Shouldn't we get going?"

"What time is it?"

"A quarter to eight," Sherlock answered as he closed the door and walked to the street to hail a cab. Only when John didn't follow, he realized what the problem was. "Oh."

"Yeah, I think we just lost our reservations," John said as he walked up to Sherlock to stand next to him.

"Where did you want to go?"

John smiled a little. "Hills."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at this. He had to admit, that was impressive. Hills was one of the most popular restaurants with an incredible reputation, and the fact that John had put in the effort to make a reservation at that place did say something.

"How did you manage that? That place is always fully booked."

"I know one of the waitresses there. She owed me a favour."

Of course, Sherlock didn't miss the hidden message. He easily could deduce what was going on. An ex-girlfriend who felt guilty, probably because she had cheated on John, or at least kissed with someone else. Not recently, though.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," John exclaimed when he realized what he had implied. His cheeks tinted, and it was the most adorable thing Sherlock had ever seen.

John sighed and closed his eyes for a second to shake his embarrassment. "I am really buggering this up, aren't I?" he said softly. "Maybe we should take a rain check."

"Do you want to?" Sherlock asked, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"No, absolutely not! John answered quickly. "But I can't come up with anything else."

"We could go to Angelo's?" Sherlock tried carefully after a moment of silence.

"The Italian place we've been to before?"

"I know it probably can't beat Hills and it's not the fancy place you had in mind, but… I don't know; I thought you liked it and…" Sherlock mumbled. He looked down to his shoes, suddenly feeling incredibly insecure. "Never mind, it's a stupid idea."

"Actually," John started and reached for Sherlock's hand. When Sherlock looked up, he gave him a warm smile. "That sounds perfect."

Sherlock managed to return John's smile and tried to push the renewed rush of nerves away. The fact that John was still holding his hand made it hard to do so. He briefly wondered if he ought to let go, but the warmth of John's hand surrounding his felt too good. Instead, he raised his other hand and tried to hail the first cab he saw, with success.

John reached for the door handle before Sherlock could make a move, allowing him to get inside before sliding in on the backseat and closing the door. Sherlock quickly gave the taxi driver the address and the car started to move.

They were silent during the ride; an occasional glance made them both blush. Their hands were next to each other, nearly touching, but neither one of them dared to reach out to the other.

After ten minutes, the cab stopped in front of the restaurant. John paid, got out of the cab and rushed to the entrance to let Sherlock in. Angelo greeted them warmly and was delighted to be their host for the evening. When he walked Sherlock and John to the table, it became clear he had noticed the special occasion. The small table was in the far corner, dimly lit by a candle and one of the more romantic and private spots in the restaurant. They ordered their drinks - a glass of red wine for John and a bottle of sparkling water to share- and took a glance at the menu.

Now that they were settled, John got the chance to take a good look at Sherlock. Of course, the man looked incredible in his tailored suit jacket and aubergine-coloured shirt, but that wasn't what got John's attention. He noticed the tightness in Sherlock's posture, the tension in his jaw. Something was off.

"Are you all right? You are quiet."

"I'm fine."

"Sherlock?" John tried again, more gently this time. "Please tell me what's on your mind?"

Sherlock didn't reply and considered his options. He could insist on being fine like he always did and push John away. But he knew John wouldn't buy it.

He also could tell what was bothering him, but that meant allowing John to come closer, which was incredibly frightening.

Lowering his menu, Sherlock took a deep, shaky breath and started speaking "I thought you changed your mind."

"What?"

"About… this. About us going on a date."

John looked puzzled. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"I… I don't do this. Dating, I mean. I haven't been on a date since Uni, and I'm not even sure if that counted." Sherlock hesitated a moment before continuing. "I've only had one relationship in my life, and although it was many things, I now realize that it wasn't a healthy one. I know that I'm not an easy person and that my inexperience in this area isn't what you are looking for, so I would understand if you would want to reconsider this."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm giving you an out," Sherlock answered softly, his voice small. He looked down to where he was fumbling with his napkin, unable to look John in the eye. He was sure he had done it. In a moment, John would get up and leave.

But that didn't happen. Instead, Sherlock heard a soft chuckle coming from John.

"Sorry, sorry! I know I'm not supposed to laugh," John snickered. "You are an idiot; you know that? I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock. And I'm sorry I let you think I bailed on you. Please believe me when I say you are the most interesting, brilliant person I've had opposite me. And not to mention, incredibly attractive as well."

When Sherlock didn't respond, John took a breath and continued. "Okay, so. You haven't done this before."

"No," Sherlock admitted quietly, his gaze now on their joined hands.

"Would you like to try? With me?"

At this, Sherlock looked up. Two stormy blue eyes met him, and his heart skipped a beat. "Yes," he managed to whisper.

"Good, that's good," John smiled. "Because I don't care, Sherlock. I don't care If you don't know how to do this, or if you don't have much experience. I'm sure we'll figure it out. And for what it's worth, you are the first man who I'm taking on an actual date. So that makes us quite even, don't you think?"

Sherlock felt his cheeks warm and nodded. He started to realize John was actually serious about this date.

"All right, how about this. I'm going to the restroom, and when I get back you and I are going to start this thing from the beginning, okay?"

"Why?"

"Because you deserve the best date possible." John paused for a second, deciding if he dared to be a little suggestive. His eyes darkened a little, and he licked his lips. He bent forward a little before he continued in a low voice. "Plus, I'm hoping that, if I do my best, you will invite me back to your place by the end of this evening."

* * *

"Do people even have arch enemy's?" John asked curiously when entering the front door of 221 Baker Street. Their date had gone wonderfully well, and Sherlock had invited John in for something to drink afterwards. During the cab ride, John suddenly remembered his strange encounter earlier that evening and had told Sherlock about it.

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?"

"Yes."

"Did you take it?"

John snorted at that. "No, of course not."

"Pity, we could've split the fee. Think I trough next time." Sherlock grinned.

"Who is he?"

"My brother."

John's eyes grew big in disbelief. "What?"

"You've met my brother, Mycroft. He probably wanted to check if you would meet his criteria for dating me."

"Hold on; you are telling me that that was the don't-hurt-my-brother-or-I'll-hurt-you speech?"

Sherlock gave him a lop-sided smile. "Of sorts."

"Oh, my God. This is officially the weirdest date I've ever had." John snickered, and after that, he started giggling uncontrollably. Sherlock couldn't help himself and joined a second later, giddy with everything from that evening.

When they were done, Sherlock pushed himself off the wall and turned to face John. "John, for what it's worth, I did have a really good time."

Suddenly, the tension between the two men was more tangible than ever, and they both felt it. Sherlock stepped closer and slowly closed the space between them, almost hovering over John. In his turn, John raised his head a bit and licked his lips. He could practically feel Sherlock's breath against his skin. He lowered his gaze to Sherlock's lips. "That's worth a lot," he managed to say before Sherlock kissed him.

It started as a brush of lips, slowly, delicately. Sherlock cupped John's cheek with one hand, the other placed on the wall to support his weight. He lost himself in the sensation of John's lips against this. John's hands were loosely placed on both sides of his hips to ground himself.  
After a moment, Sherlock decided it wasn't enough. He deepened the kiss, let his tongue touch John's bottom lip. John answered with his, and the kiss grew firmer, more determined.

Finally, Sherlock decided to pull away. He looked directly in John's eyes, his own gaze playful. "I do remember something about inviting you in."

"Are you going to?" John dared.

"Perhaps."

John smirked and pulled Sherlock back against his mouth. He wasted no time and opened Sherlock's mouth with his tongue. The slow, sensual kiss they had shared moments ago had made way for a more heated one.

The loose grasp of John's hands on Sherlock's hips were gone. Instead, John let his hands roam over Sherlock's back and daringly grabbed his ass, pulling Sherlock again his own body. Sherlock let out a small moan and it was the most arousing sound John had ever heard.

Eventually, Sherlock pushed away ever so slightly. "John," he panted, his voice low and husky. He let his forehead rest against John's and smiled against John's lips. "Would you like to get upstairs, so I can kiss you the way I want to kiss you? So I can kiss you where I want to kiss you… Do more than just kiss you?"

"God, yes."


End file.
